#(it's not like her relationships were irreparably damaged either some how we could carry on as normal) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

1-800-roflmao · 3 years

Text

Wash Day Delight Pt. 3

Rating: General Audiences

WARNINGS: None

Fandom: Undertale (Video Game)

Relationships: Papyrus (Undertale)/Reader, Papyrus (Undertale) & Reader, Papyrus (Underfell) & Reader

Characters: Papyrus (Undertale), Reader, Edge (UF Pap), and Mentions of Other AU Skeletons

Additional Tags: Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader Is Not Chara (Undertale), reader is poc, Reader has curly hair, Undertale Monsters on the Surface, Friendship, Wholesome, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, I'm Bad At Summaries, Not Beta Read, Romance if you squint, Subtext, Let Papyrus be Sassy, Edge Is The Unwilling Dad Friend, Idiots in Love, Fluff and Humor, Slice of Life

*I was vague with reader's scent on purpose. Some of use love coconut milk or oil or Shea butter, but it's not universal. I like Manuka honey blends~

And it's always the bra that get ditched first!

PREVIOUS || FIRST || NEXT

“So, what took so long with Mrs. Ida?” She had just finished locking up the house and they were now descending the back staircase. It had been a mad dash to get finished and out the door since she flustered Papyrus in the bathroom. If it was petty vengeance for teasing him, she didn’t know, but he had threatened to carry her out in a much similar way to how he does with Sans if she didn’t “MAKE HASTE.” Needless to say, she hadn’t been given a moment until now to inquire what had happened earlier that evening. “I was startin’ ta wonder if you’d gotten lost…” she mumbled, her tone giving away just how worried she had been despite trying to joke it off now. She could hear him lightly click his teeth in acknowledgement.

“Mrs. Ida Had Not Driven Here,” he started and she arched a brow before chuckling as it clicked. How had she not considered a woman of Ida’s age might not drive? Would it have been presumptuous to have asked though? “She Had Said She ‘Caught’ A Cab, But Not Literally,” he was rambling a bit, but she wasn't complaining. She lifted her gaze from the paved pathway they were walking along and up to her friend. She could hear an edge of bashfulness to his voice as he admitted the old woman taught him about “euphemisms.” His retelling was quickly veering off into a tangent, ranging from complaining and praising the many different facets of language to pondering if it was worth getting his brother some study materials. He griped it was a fifty-fifty chance to either improve his jokes and puns, or make them so much worse.

“Oh, I think it’d be worth it!” she piped up, looking away as he cut off his rant and directed his gaze down at her. She didn’t need to look at him right now. She could very easily guess his expression and just knew those sockets of his were narrowing as he sent her a suspicious look.

A beat of silence then “THEN I WILL LEAVE SANS ALONE.”

She fought back a giggle, “Aw, c’mon! Don’t you want his puns to be up to your standards?” She tipped her head back as she directed a cheeky grin his way.

Papyrus just huffed, crossing his arms over his chest which was now missing the pastel sweater from earlier. He had taken it off before they left the house to reveal his “Jog Boy” top. “IT IS OBVIOUS YOU ARE HOPING FOR THE OPPOSITE!” he rebuked, “AND DON’T EVEN TRY TO ARGUE. I KNOW YOU TOO WELL! BEST. FRIEND.” He emphasized those last two words like it was the most solid evidence to ever exist.

With a little defeated shrug of her shoulders, she blew a raspberry his way. “Fiiiine,” she drug out the word, “But you know you love his jokes and puns anyways.” A frustrated noise hissed past his teeth as he shamefully agreed. “Soooo, going off that logic…” she started, a devious curl to her lips and twinkle in her eyes as she moved in front the skeleton. “Wouldn’t you love his jokes EVEN MORE if they got WORSE?” she pushed, brows waggling as she watched Papyrus freeze, his mind working through what she just said. Once his mind finally wrapped around her hypothesis, he gripped his skull, falling to his knees, and let out possibly the most anguished, dramatic scream. Apparently, he couldn't find fault with his human friend’s absurd logic.

○●○●○●○●○

The temperature outside had dropped once again in such little time and despite the slight chill, she couldn’t feel any of it. It would be a miracle at this point if she could. No, she’d be thankful to as it would mean she wouldn’t be having the workout from hell right now. Maybe she had teased him a wee bit too much.

“Paaaapiiiii!” she griped, surprised she could even get out a whine that long considering she could barely catch her breath, “I said! I was-!” What was supposed to be an easy jog had turned a into suicide run. “SORRY!” Papyrus was behind her setting the pace and any time she slowed too much, he would pinch or smack whatever part of her he could reach at that moment. So far, her left butt cheek had felt the brunt of it along with her upper thighs.

“FOCUS! CONTROL YOUR BREATHING, HUMAN!” he snapped, ignoring her plea, and she wondered briefly if maybe Edge had snuck up and taken her normally gentle friend’s place. A pinch on her elbow had her picking up her pace and focusing on the now. She had already learned she wasn’t allowed to look back, plus it didn’t help any with balance or keeping pace. “LOOK! THERE IS YOUR GOAL ONLY A FEW MORE STEPS UP AHEAD!” Curse him for not even sounding out of breath. She knew these skeletons don’t technically need to breathe, but at least huff a bit or something in sympathy here.

Papyrus had not been lying though. Just one more block down was the gym, or as she thought of it: her salvation. Zeroing in on the building that was getting closer and closer, she focused on her breathing to bring it down from frantic pants to something more disciplined: slower and deeper. It was a strange feeling as her mind calmed. Heh, maybe her old coach had a point when he said the human body can do a lot more than the mind thinks.

“START SLOWING DOWN,” she gratefully followed the order and began easing her pace, but aware of him behind her still setting the pace. She supposed one day she would be grateful to him for not letting her come to a dead stop. Today, in this moment, she wasn’t as the slow ease of the pace was almost as tortuous as the marathon she had been forced to run. “WE’VE ARRIVED. YOU CAN REST NOW.” He didn’t need to say it twice as the young woman nearly crumpled before the doors of the gym. Bent over with hands on splayed knees as she sucked in air like it was going to get away. She could feel a large hand rubbing her back and was aware that Papyrus was saying something, possibly praises or encouragements, but she could barely hear over the rush of blood, her pounding heart that seemed so much louder and next to her ears, and her puffs that were thankfully slowing as she caught her breath.

○●○●○●○●○

Papyrus felt just a little guilty as he watched his friend recover from their run, but not enough to apologize. He kept rubbing soothing circles onto her hunched back. “AMAZING WHAT WE CAN ACCOMPLISH WHEN WE PUSH OURSELVES,” he gently pushed at her spine, encouraging her to straighten it rather than bowing. He had a feeling she wasn’t hearing a word he was saying, but continued to sing her praises as he opened his dimensional box and took out a bottle of water. “LOOK AT THE BRIGHT SIDE! YOU ALREADY HIT YOUR HEART RATE GOAL FOR TONIGHT AND WE CAN WALK BACK,” he cracked the cap on the bottle. He couldn’t hear her gasping for breath anymore, but she was still hunched over. “COME ON, WE STILL-”

“I THOUGHT I RECOGNIZED THAT UNCEASING CHEER,” a new voice cut in, one he recognized as well. Looking up from his friend, he spotted the pricklier version of himself leaning out the doors of the gym. Edge’s narrow sockets stared the two of them down, but he felt no ire from the other, just curiosity and some irritation.

“OH, WELL HELLO, EDGE,” he greeted as cheerfully as he could despite the mounting confusion he was feeling. He could feel his friend tense for a moment beneath his hand before relaxing again. Her heart rate had slowed to normal by now, but had picked up just a bit at the mention of Edge. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” If he remembered correctly, his fell counterpart usually didn’t work out this particular day, or at least not at night.

Edge only huffed as he finally stepped fully outside and marched up to his doppelganger. “WHAT DO YOU THINK?” he snipped, arms crossed as he came to a stop just a few feet from the two.

Oh, how hard Papyrus’s eyelights would have rolled if he had them. “OH, I DON’T KNOW, BUT SINCE YOU ASKED SO NICELY!” he started, hand lifting to tap a phalange against his chin in feigned thought. “AHA! YOU HAVE FINALLY DECIDED TO VISIT THE CHIROPRACTOR WHO WORKS TONIGHT AND GET THAT ATTITUDE STRAIGHTENED UP!” he declared with utmost confidence, somehow managing to sound sincerely elated in a way only Papyrus could.

A silent staredown ensued as Papyrus just kept smiling brightly in feigned innocence. He could see that Edge wanted to be mad at him, but couldn’t hide that little proud quirk of his sharp fangs. The moment was broken as his friend brought attention back to herself with a poorly smothered laugh.

○●○●○●○●○

She had been quiet through the entire encounter. Hearing Edge’s voice after just wondering about him during that hellish run had her wondering if she had somehow summoned him with just a single thought. She took a moment to pray to whatever gods or deities were out there to take mercy on her. She would hold back on the teasing and being a little shit, just no more torture tonight. Maybe if she stays real quiet, she could avoid getting Edge’s attention and lessen her chances of irreparable damage.

That all went out the window as a little snort pushed past her lips. Leave it to Papyrus to sass one of the pointiest, scary-looking monsters around. “I need to know where you get that audacity from,” she didn’t bother trying to contain the laugh anymore as she straightened up with a roll of her shoulders, “I could use some of it.”

Both skeletons huffed at that, but it was Edge who spoke up first, “YOU HAVE PLENTY OF IT ALREADY, BRAT.”

Papyrus nodded along, “ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING YOUR BEHAVIOR TONIGHT.”

She pouted, parting her lips to argue, but froze as Edge had uncrossed his arms with an appraising look sent her way.

“OH? AND JUST WHAT HAS SHE DONE?” Edge questioned, voice full of amusement as he watched the human between them shake her head and send a pleading look to Papyrus. She was begging with just her eyes for him to not throw her under the bus. No such luck as he began filling Edge in on all her teasing and poking fun that night. He decided to add on that she had been running late at that.

Throughout it all, Edge was prowling closer and closer until he was practically invading her space. He must have already been working out when they came since she could smell something spicy, like cinnamon, with just a little musk wafting from him once he was close enough. Usually he was very keen on making sure his scent was barely noticeable, especially after the first time she commented on it. It hadn’t been a bad comment. It smelled quite nice, just like now, but since then she only got lucky to get a whiff here and there. As much as she wanted to take a step back, she stubbornly kept eye contact and straightened up even more.

“BUT SHE DID RUN ALL THE WAY HERE. NONSTOP,” Papyrus had finished his recount with her most recent accomplishment. She let herself feel proud as she watched Edge’s cruel smile soften just a bit with awe and pride. With how close he was though, she could practically feel the rumble as he hummed thoughtfully.

“Then I Guess She Has Earned Forgiveness,” his voice should not be allowed to be at that volume. It still had that scratchy quality to it, but the low volume just increased that damnable rumbling that was causing warmth to bloom in her chest and hopefully not on her face. “BUT,” she gulped as that cruel lilt returned and he leaned in, “WHY STOP THERE?” No. “I THINK IT’S TIME WE HELP OUR FRIEND LEARN WHAT HER NEW LIMITS ARE. AREN’T YOU CURIOUS, BRAT?” No, no she was not.

In a last ditch effort to get out this, she leaned to look pleadingly at Papyrus, but he wasn’t even paying her any mind as he seemed to be pondering something. One foot was tapping as he rested an elbow in the palm of his opposing arm’s hand. A water bottle was pinned between his arm and chest. A distal phalange tapped away at his temple as he hummed. Sockets squinted for the few moments he took to think it over. Hope bloomed as he finally looked to them with that signature toothy grin of his. “GREAT IDEA, EDGE!” How quickly hope shattered.

○●○●○●○●○

~THREE HOURS LATER~

○●○●○●○●○

“I hate you both…” the words lacked energy and any true vitriol. She couldn’t even muster the energy to feel any shame or shyness pertaining to her current predicament. She was now aware of muscles she never knew she had and she was sure the next morning would be hell. Would she even be able to move tomorrow? These two had done just what they promised and pushed her to find new limits, but the cost was her ability to pretty much function on her own. Her legs were like jelly and her arms were just barely listening to her. Her core wasn’t putting up a fuss right now, but she knew it was coming. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too bad as the two had made sure she drank water, stretched, and did cool downs.

Papyrus had taken pity on her when he saw her physical state and insisted he carry her. He had won despite her stubborn efforts to stand and walk in the locker room afterwards. Edge had even chided her, telling her to quit being fussy, and just accept the help or crawl. She doubted he would have actually let her crawl out the gym.

“We Know You Don’t Mean That,” one of her tormentors answered with a far too jovial tone. The other just snickered off to her left and feeling contrary, she turned her face the opposite way, which ended up with her pretty much nuzzling into Papyrus’s neck as he was currently carrying her piggyback. Rather than looping his arms under her knees and holding her that way, he had gone with braiding his fingers behind his back and letting her pretty much sit on his palms. His arms kept her legs pinned to his sides. He was bent forward slightly which kept her from having to hold on as tightly and instead just lay against his back.

An indignant huff was the only answer she graced them with. She could feel Papyrus’s little laugh more than hear it as it caused her to bounce gently on his back. Meanwhile, the smell of sweet mint and citrus invaded her senses from where her face was tucked. It was honestly a little unfair how these skeletons could smell so good after a hard workout. She hoped she didn’t stink…

A sharp distal poked her shoulder and stubbornly she ignored its owner. The pokes continued until finally it was just stabbing into her already sore flesh and she gave in, rolling to face the sharp skeleton once more. To her surprise, a banana was currently being held right in front of her face. It had already been partially peeled. She blinked and it was still there. “A banana?” she mumbled, mentally slapping herself for stating the obvious.

Edge snickered, “AT LEAST THAT MUSCLE IN YOUR HEAD IS STILL SOMEWHAT VIABLE.” His humor had always been drier than the Sahara and now was no exception. Any witness would have thought he was beating a dog that was already down.

“If you’re talking about my brain, it’s actually made of fat,” she replied, just as dry and resting her cheek against Papyrus’s shoulder. For a skeleton, he was surprisingly comfy and his easy pace was gradually rocking her to sleep. Said skeleton made a noise best described as a “SNRK!” not long after what she said. Edge had only released a drawn out sigh. At least one of them appreciated her humor.

“JUST EAT THE DAMN BANANA, YOU BRAT,” he moved it closer insistently, looking and sounding very much like a tired mom trying to get her child to eat the last piece of broccoli on their plate.

A pause then, “No.”

“NO?”

“No.”

“WHY?”

“Where did you even get a banana from?”

“I HAD IT.”

“So, you just carry around a banana all the time?”

“NO, YOU DISCOUNT KAOLA.”

“Awww, and here I thought I was an upgrade.”

“QUIT TRYING TO DIVERT THE CONVERSATION AND EAT IT.”

“Fine… but only if you tell me why I should.”

Edge sucked in an unneeded breath as he nearly vibrated in irritation. He took a moment to calm before gritting out, "FINE." She was just a little impressed he had an answer. “POTASSIUM IS SUPPOSED TO BE GOOD FOR EASING AND PREVENTING CRAMPS. BANANAS, I READ, APPARENTLY CONTAIN IT. THUS EATING IT SHOULD HELP YOU BE LESS OF A USELESS LUMP TOMORROW,” he explained, concise and leaving no room for argument, “AND QUIT YOUR LAUGHING, CREAMPUFF. YOU’RE NOT HELPING THE MATTER.” Her sleepy, tired brain processed the information and found no fault. A memory of an old movie where the parents were shrunk and the kids were left on their own came to mind as she remembered it mentioning something about bananas and potassium as well.

“Okay, you win,” she conceded, chuckling quietly as the scarred skeleton sighed in relief. Edge had far more patience than most give him credit for. At one point in the past, he would have just shoved the fruit in her mouth or just stormed off, but now he was willing to put up with the back and forth. Maybe he actually enjoyed banter? Earlier, he seemed to be proud of Papyrus’s sass.

Sleepy and not thinking, she leaned forward and took a bite of the banana. It was just at the right ripeness she noted as she chewed contentedly. She didn’t notice how quiet either skeleton was or that they had come to stop before a black classic Ford Mustang.

○●○●○●○●○

Edge’s mind had blanked as he watched the scene play out. This human, rather than simply taking the fruit from his hand and eating it normally, had instead leaned forward slowly and carefully. There was a little sway to her movement, a little shake in her arms as she curled her fingers tighter in to the Creampuff’s shirt to steady herself, and he instinctively brought up his free hand to hover near her just in case. “WATCH WH-what you...” his words faded out as she finally reached the fruit and took a small bite. To top it off, she was doing that absurdly cute little wiggle and hum that human women seemed to commonly do when they ate something they liked.

“I Can Just Feel The Cavities Forming…” he grumbled under his breath, diverting his eyes from her and her adorable display before a blush could rise. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his doppelganger sending him a sly look and he didn’t bother suppressing a growl. It was cut off as he felt her taking another bite. “WOULD YOU JUST HOLD IT?” he snapped.

“But I’ve got to hold on,” she had mumbled in reply after swallowing her last bite, “And you told me to eat it. You didn’t tell me how.” He resisted the urge to pinch her nose for that smart remark and just sucked in a deep breath before slowly releasing.

“She Makes A Good Point,” his softer counterpart imputted.

Edge could only level a deadpan stare on his duplicate, “NOT. HELPING.” Papyrus had the nerve to laugh and the woman resting against his back giggled as she bounced due to it. Shaking his head, he fished his keys from his black joggers’ pockets and unlocked the driver’s side door. Before he got too far, he pushed the banana into the young woman’s hand with a quick order to hold on to it since he needed both his hands. He swiftly put down the seat so the back seat could be accessed. While he was sure Papyrus wouldn’t mind her riding in his lap on the way home, he didn’t think he could take anymore public displays of affection tonight. No matter how platonic they are.

“Alright, Get In The Backseat,” he ordered as he moved to the side. He pinched at his nose ridge as he watched Papyrus move to get in the back with her, “NOT YOU. HER. JUST HER.” There was no room for argument and no matter how much the Creampuff looked like a puppy that just had its treat stolen, he wasn’t giving in. Thankfully, the woman’s little head pats she placed on his skull seemed to appease him. Wait, how was she- oh. He held in a snicker at the ridiculous image she presented. She had freed up one of her hands by holding the banana in her mouth, while her other still gripped at his shirt. A good sign she had some of her strength back at least.

○●○●○●○●○

Papyrus had at first been annoyed at the thought of Edge butting in on their hang out time, but had warmed up to it rather quickly. Plus, Edge had informed them that he had missed his usual work time session the day before due to an emergency at his restaraunt. It truly was coincidence. It had been fun and having Edge there kept him from going soft on her tonight. It was honestly amusing how she’d gripe and moan and beg, but would push through through the sets and exercises anyway. He’d seen a new side to her as Edge decided to poke at her pride during weight lifting and she had lifted more in that deadlift than he could have ever expected. She’d said it had been fueled by “pure spite” at that moment and not to expect it as the norm. They had new bars set and she’d be less peeved at them when she saw how far she had come along.

Afterwards, it had been decided they would take Edge’s car back to her house, rather than parting ways. While he wasn’t feeling it nearly as intensely as his companion currently resting on his back, he had been pushing himself as well to be fair. Edge, being as observant as ever, had noticed. He couldn’t argue against the logic that it wasn’t a good or safe idea for an exhausted monster and person of color to walk home this late. By now, Sixth Street should be bustling with life and sometimes a few strays wander down teh other streets. They’re not always trouble, but why risk it?

With her this close, he was surrounded by her scent. Mostly her hair products, but he could smell the musk of her sweat as well and sweet lotion. It wasn’t bad, but he knew not to comment on it either way. He was sure she could smell him and he just hoped she didn’t mind. She hadn’t pulled away at any point or complained so maybe he was safe. He kept one gripe to himself about tonight. At this moment, if she had kept her hair down, those curls would be touching his face and neck. A sorely missed opportunity.

Her and Edge had bickered most the way and he had valiantly tried not laugh, only to fail in the end. It was just such ridiculous little diatribes. It was all so cute, Edge included, but now they had reached his car and he’d have to put her down.

She was currently petting his skull in an effort to comfort and it was working. Her cheek still rested against his shoulder with her lips wrapped around the banana, just holding it in her mouth. Her free hand that wasn’t gripped his shirt had stopped the gentle petting motion and now just rested her palm against the top of his skull. He could feel one of her fingers just rubbing in a slow circle. Now, that just isn’t fair-

“I WILL HAVE DUSTED BY TIME YOU TWO DECIDE TO FINISH WITH THIS,” his doppelganger snipped with an irritated huff and jerk of his hand to the back seat once again. “EITHER PUT HER DOWN OR I WILL CONFISCATE HER MYSELF,” he threatened, his already sharp sockets narrowing further as his sharp teeth tipped up at the edges.

Papyrus didn’t know if he should be impressed the other had not threatened to just leave them or flustered at his counterpart's subtext. He would leave those thoughts for later. For now, he crouched down carefully and with Edge’s help, they helped their companion off his back and into the seat. By the time he made it around the vehicle and settled into the passenger’s seat, Edge was already seated in the driver’s side and in the rear view he could his friend eating with ease. He called her name and she looked up curiously, still chewing her last bite, “Do You Need Require Any Water At The Moment?”

She just shook her head and swallowed her mouthfull, “Not unless that water is part of a shower.”

“A Shower Does Sound Nice Right Now,” he agreed. He could hear Edge grunting in agreement as he turned the key in the ignition and put the car into gear. The engine roared to life and the dash board lit up, showing off the upgrades Edge had done to the classic model. It wasn’t long before they pulling out the spot and onto the road, heading back to her little abode on Eighth Street.

“Human,” the sharper of the two skeletons called and glanced into the mirror to check if she was paying attention, “Hopefully, You Do Not Plan To Work Tomorrow After Tonight.” It should have been a question, but it sounded more like a command.

“I Have To Agree With My Cousin On This,” Papyrus piped in as he saw her looking like she wanted to argue. She pursed her lips as he kept talking, “You’ll Be Dreadfully Sore Tomorrow Most Likely.”

“And I wonder whose fault that is,” she didn’t hesitate with a little click of her tongue. Papyrus atleast had the shame to wince, but beat down the guilt as their driver sent him a sharp look. A look that said don’t back down.

“No Matter Who's At Fault Here,” Edge started, coming to a stop at a four way and putting on his blinker. Sharp red eyelights lit in his sockets and locked with the young woman’s gaze in the mirror. “Your Body Still Needs Rest. Doing Anything Other That Tomorrow Would Only Be Punishing Yourself For No Good Reason,” he scolded and gave her a moment to nod and voice her understanding before extinguishing his eyelights.

The rest of the car ride was void of chatter as Edge put on some soft music and his passengers fought off sleep. One because the trip was too short to provide a decent nap and would just result him being groggy. The other because she was now responsible for an empty banana peel and she’d rather not drop it on any part of this vehicle that felt far too expensive for her to be sitting in.

○●○●○●○●○

Finally, Edge was pulling the black Mustang over and parking just infront Papyrus’s red Ferrari. She swears these two just visiting the area raised property values. She scooted closer to Edge’s side as he got out and started putting down the seat. Once it was down, she took Edge’s offered hand and let him help her out. She was happy to see she could stand again, but that didn’t say anything about the stairs she needed to climb. Even ground was one thing, but an incline… she may be crawling to bed after all.

“Do You Think You Can Make It OR-?” her sharp friend started to question, but let the rest hang for her to fill in. Despite how prickly he could be, he was honestly a sweetheart once you earned his trust.

“Well…” she trailed off as Papyrus cleared his nonexistent throat and made his presence known once again. One glance at him and she felt like smacking herself for almost forgetting. “Oh right, Papi, you left your sweater inside,” she laughed, “You’re lucky, I could use another comfy sweater to add to my collection.” There were a few of the skeletons whose sweaters she’d love to steal; namely, the lazier of the brothers had the prime specimens.

Papyrus just shook his head, “Maybe Asking Nicely Would Get You Better Results,” he adminished.

Is that so? “Pretty please, can I keep your sweater?” she went for it with a hopeful smile, which was quickly dashed as he cackled softly with a dry “NO.” She could even hear Edge snorting as he stifled a laugh behind his fist. If she had the energy, she’d whine a bit, but her bed was calling her. Turning her attention back to Edge, she nodded, “Thanks for joining us tonight. It was fun.” After a moment, she added one last thought, “You should join us more often.” She meant it. Even if the workout had been harder than she was used to, it was nice to have someone who knew how to push her buttons and get her to push herself.

Edge’s sharp visage softened just slightly and he sent her an appreciative smile, nodding. “Maybe I Will.”

○●○●○●○●○

It had been a blessing that Papyrus needed to get his sweater from the apartment as she had nearly crumpled going up the stairs. The poor skeleton had been fretting about her something fierce and ended up just carrying her up the stairs as watching her struggle had apparently been too stressful. It had taken plenty coaxing and reassuring that she would be fine and wouldn’t be completely helpless on her own. He’d made her pinky promise to not shower or bathe tonight as he didn’t trust her to not slip and fall or fall asleep and drown. He’d ordered her to bed immediately and she wasn’t arguing. That had been an order from the heavens.

She’d wasted no time after sharing a hug goodbye and he was on his way down the stairs to lock up and draw her curtains. She’d shed her clothes like a snake once she had stepped foot in her room. A trail of clothes, starting with her bra and ending with her socks and shoes now stretched across her floor. She didn’t bother finding a night shirt and simply face planted on her bed with relieved sigh as the cool sheets and comforter kissed her bare skin.

She wasn’t too worried about going to bed sweaty. She’d decided on the way home to have a wash day tomorrow. It’s been due, but now with this workout, it was definitely needed. She could just enjoy pampering her body, hair, and scalp. A nice little spa day. She could change and wash her sheets then as well, so no harm done.

Her phone buzzing from somewhere in her room barely registered with her. It wasn’t until it buzzed a few more times that she forced herself to sit up and look around her dark room for the infernal device. It needed to be plugged up anyway now that she remembers. Spotting the phone on the floor near her abandoned clothes, she slid off her bed and scooped it up. Tapping the screen, she winced as it lit up and quickly lowered the brightness.

No longer in danger of being blinded, she saw the notifications from earlier that she had forgotten to check and a few new ones. Some were junk, but most were messages from friends, family, and one for work. She would reply to the work one tomorrow when she has a fresh mind and it was a decent hour. She rolled her eyes good naturedly as she opened a message from Papyrus.

Papaya: REMEMBER TO REST TOMORROW. GOOD NIGHT!

Papaya: WHY ARE YOU NOT SLEEPING?!

Papaya: PUT DOWN THE PHONE AND GO TO BED!

Papaya: I KNOW IT’S A DIFFICULT THING TO DO WHEN YOU HAVE A TXTING BUDDY AS GREAT AS ME!!

Papaya: BUT YOU MUST.

A little snort burst past her lips as the messages kept coming in, all along the same note. She tapped the little text box and sent him a quick little message:

Flooffie: Pot calling the kettle black

Flooffie: XP

Closing the convo as she saw him typing, she breezed through the rest of her texts. She sent quick little replies where needed, but most turned out to be bad puns and one liners from the jokesters of the family. Coffee had sent her a cute little doodle he had made her with a note saying he’d like to see that hairstyle on her. It was cute. She sent him a couple heart emojis and a thumbs up. She could type a thought out reply tomorrow. Switching her phone to silent, she plugged it up and crawled back into bed. It seemed her head had barely hit her pillows before sleep swept her under.

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fatedkings · 3 years

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i want to preface these thoughts by saying: by no way shape and form will i ever force my headcanons on my roleplay partner of the other character i have the headcanon with. These are just my thoughts and nor do I view muns of villains in a negative light, we all love characters just different types. it does not mean they, the muns, are bad people.

my ( undead ) izuru headcanons involve Gin/Aizen of course, whom both i love dearly with all my heart, and several other characters like Hisagi, Momo, Renji, and Matsumoto. I will have a read more, gore warning etc. as this WILL get lengthy ( going in depth about izuru’s state of consciousness leading up to, the possible backlash, etc. )

basically tl;dr izuru kira becomes the epitome of despair.

After a blast in the chest from Bazz-B, obliterating his abdomen tossing his arm aside, Izuru barely “alive” is taken to Mayuri Kurotsuchi to be healed. Held together by a string of will to live, heavy poles, and enhanced by the reiatsu of Izuru’s fallen seated officers now standing at a captain’s level ( as stated by Shaz Domino in their battle in “Beginning of the revive of Tomorrow”. )

much of him ponders his existence: how he is carrying the souls of the seated officers he was unable to protect, only to continue to fight for his pride as a gotei 13 member. This mindset has been the same since Gin Ichimaru left the gotei 13 with aizen in a beam of light, leaving Kira’s trust irreparable. his personality has always revolved around his comrades, his captain, the gotei 13 ( as many shinigami were indoctrinated to unquestioningly [ i.e. he made momo bow before byakuya even though it was wrong to just allow renji to be jailed horribly injured as he was. ] believe to follow the rules and motions at the time making aizens plan easier, izuru is just another sleeper in the system. )

this could be stated as a young shinigami he was impressionable, Aizen “I plan everything to a T” Sosuke stated how he chose Hinamori specifically for being his lieutenant so that he may manipulate her like a puppet for the events of the soul society arc. ( which arguably pitted them against one another and ruined their [ hinamori and izuru’s ] relationship in my opinion ) i highly suspect that Izuru was ALSO chosen through the same process that Hinamori was picked so that there were no flaws in this plan, as Gin was in with Aizen one hundred years prior.

now, I am not saying that Gin did not CARE for Izuru personally, I am saying that Gin had a mission and that was to kill aizen by any means necessary even if it meant getting others hurt. Gin played along with Aizen’s game, the manipulation, i even think he cared for Izuru to an extent before the end of their time together, but again he had a mission he had to accomplish. What I have always loved about BLEACH is how morally grey the characters are, and Gin alongside Tosen is a great example of these archtypes. Gin wanted to kill Aizen and return the shard of the Soul King back to Rangiku, what he sold his life away to for the person he loved most.

We know Izuru as a child was more free, chipper to tease and speculate over his and Hisagi’s strength only question what happened to make Kira such a gloomy person. Perhaps it is the exposure to being a soul reaper, but the drastic changes in his personality make me question what made Izuru the person we know now? it’s only later on in my current re-reading of BLEACH in Izuru’s cell scene did i get the full extent of how uncomfortable it truly was at least for me. A dilapitated cell, scratched up, broken chair, blood splatter aross the floor, Izuru in a sling self loathing:

Hinamori’s cell was not the same state being absolutely pristine, almost the same for Renji except more concrete than wooden. Kira put the loyalty to his Captain over the loyalty to his friend when it came down to the tension over Sosuke Aizen’s “death” self loathing over what he had done. All of this Damage had been done by himself, restrained for his own safety, conflicted over his own emotions:

Izuru was lead to rely and be loyal to Gin ( if not I think part of Kira on the inside was also TERRIFIED of Gin ), leading to Izuru diverting Matsumoto after the central 46 slaughter although he tells Nayura from “Beginning of the Revive of Tomorrow” Gin did not tell him to fight Matsumoto the opposite is implied in the manga as well as matsumoto’s suspicions of some sort of manipulation ( rangiku and izuru make up tho and drink so its gucci ) with a q&a of Kira’s after the soul society rebellion sounding lost, stating how he did not want ‘liars’ in his company. However, Hinamori’s q&a had a desire for life and to move on from the tragic events unlike Izuru’s prompt.

Rose might be attached to Izuru, however, Izuru does not want to latch on to Rose and for something unmistakable to happen ( unable to trust, similar to the captain amagai arc in the anime except with one personality of strenuous trepidation and the other willing. )

It’s always been his mindset to put the Gotei 13 before his friends ( who he loves very much, he worried about rangiku more than himself even though he was a human squirting ketchup bottle ), he does not have any living family, nor does he seem to have any lingering positive feelings to himself as now Kira needs to PROVE his worth. Later on in turn back the pendelum with Kisuke and Hiyori visiting maggots nest mentioning how there is no one who intentionally leaves the Gotei 13, implying that in the Gotei 13 you either die as a shinigami or are imprisoned for life. Unquestioning loyalty is the unhealthy norm among all of them, even if it may seem endearing at times for the Division eleven members, etc.

[Undead] Izuru is just what he says: a ‘different Izuru’.

although it may be known that the hole in his chest exists, the extent that the mental state has deteriorated would be unknown to most of the people in his life. Just because of the change brought on by Ichigo and his friends does not mean that Soul society has truly made progress, many of the soul reapers linger on the old ways rather than moving forward. Shinigami are still very much sheep apart of the herd and without Kira voicing his concern about the state of being Izuru is in none would be the wiser or know about the souls essentially stapled against his own. Everyone would be complacent, silent... as possibly KIra could decend into a numb void pit similar to a Gillian.

How? Only Arrancar have been stated similar to Shinigami, but the backlash to having the souls pegged onto the motherboard would create some TYPE of hazard for Izuru in the future that would jeapordize his state of being. Here i propose this theory: Gillians are made of hollows intertwined with one another, although, most do not have any sense of individuality because of this make up,

1.) izuru would eventually lose his sense of object permanence, individuality, perpetually putting his comrades in danger by his own presence that could lead to the harm or slaughter of shinigami and the people he once loved.

2.) if the process of losing spiritual pressure is painful ( i.e. how ichigo reacted in the manga when he passed out after mugetsu ) perhaps the same can be said for those who rapidly gain spiritual pressure/reiatsu over a short period of time.

( in brave souls during his attacks he sounds like hes groaning or in pain. )

3.) interacting with izuru is a lot like pulling teeth, to yank and tear, like the moon as a waning crescent his mentality is filled with the dysphoric aftermath. Unable to turn a new page, even with the war over, izuru has not sought help for the gaping cavern that lays in his chest nor does he seem to want to...

( izuru seems to be content with living alongside his companions day to day as if the days were the same before the TYBW [ in rukia’s and renji’s getting-married novel he still has the hole because yoruichi tries to unclothe him to look at it ]. Unless kira himself comes to the conclusion that he has regained some sort of status within the gotei 13, as lieutenant within division three there will be no redemption or acceptance to fill that gap. it will be there haunting him, a wound undisclosed with all expected to walk parallel never questioning his state of being, he is detached from the world around him, isolating himself for various reasons. )

4.) the arm that was blown off is mostly repaired as synthetic, izuru holds his arms and body irregularly ( i.e. how attacks with one arm only, one shoulder is lifted higher than the other. ) and can be ejected off with enough force if applied.

5.) SPECULATION**// his will to fight/kill might be affected, as we have seen through ichigo, is what drives a shinigami to gain power in their zanpakuto is their kill intent resolve. He states that he is only fighting for his pride to gain his status back in the gotei 13, though he protected others, it was to a means to an end. However, his former resolve in battle was to the point of no doubt so it would vary by situation ( i.e. “ can i protect this place? we will see... “ )

6.) no one knows about the souls basically stapled to Izuru’s body. most likely people understand he had grown stronger without a bankai but not HOW. The only people who know are Mayuri, Nemu ( who is dead), possibly Akon, and very few of those in the twelfth division but those would be sworn to silence.

7.) a type of imposter syndrome. believing that he is not the real izuru, since he did indeed die, combined with several different souls who could he be? it’s why he becomes irrationally agitated when the events of TYBW or the hole inside his body is brought up, why has he not closed it? truly he is frightened of what the answer might be and only clams up more aka linked back to #3

the reason i call him the epitome of despair is that he always had good intentions, he loves his friends endlessly, he serves his company with loyalty that would be expected of a perfect soldier, but he never had a chance from the start that he entered the academy.

he might have been able to save one girl inside of the central 46 that would go on to do big changes alongside the captain commander and nanao, but for Izuru already so much had been lost at one time significance had no meaning. his life had no meaning, all his faith in the system had been proven to be meaningless as corrupt, most of all he could not protect his comrades that were compounded to his body : how could he continue to be a shinigami in the gotei thirteen, a lieutenant no less? how could he protect others?

i don’t want to stereotype him as the “”””emo””””” type as he, at the core, is far from it even with and despite how gloomy Izuru reacts. He is, for the most part, a grounded level headed individual who is self disciplined, decisive even when it comes to battle that separates him from the rest of the lieutenants ( he has a usual indecisiveness, but it can be worked to his advantage in some situations. )

Loyal, soft spoken, the friend you would WANT to have, Izuru can still express emotion as the sheer panic and fright he had when yoruichi tried to disrobe him just to look at his hole was genuine enough. hell he even ran division three for a short time by himself, i think that is something to be recognized.

it’s not that he does not believe as the head of central 46 thinks, but that his reasoning for who he was wanes his existence. all of it is jarring, there would have to be some kind of backlash.

it would be easy to say ‘get orihime to heal him’ and ‘get it over with’ but orihime struggled to heal ichigo through ulquiorra’s cero that shot through his chest the first time because of the strong reiatsu that lingered. Bazz-B is a thousand year old quincy, in comparison the effort would most likely exhaust orihime before she even finishes because of the residual energy that imprinted. Knowing how orihime’s powers work it relies on her mental fortitude, she is human and not indespensible, Kira sees this as a burden on the ryoka and would not ask this of them after all that Ichigo and his friends have done for them.

degradation was not personality/character improvement rather the focus of the marigold on his character was specific, and I am sure there would have been more if Kubo was not rushed by deadlines and illness. I feel like im repeating points by now so i think hopefully everyone gets the picture of what I mean, if anyone has any questions let me know!

#( out. // saved. )#( [m] marigold. )#[ *// blood gore cw ]#[ *// body horror cw ]#[ *// self harm ment cw ]#{ welcome to my ted talk on how izuru kiras life is in the fucking toilet }#{ these are subject to change && i would love to discuss kira and stuff with more people especially other kiras... looks longingly }

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tinycaprisun · 4 years

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a song not about love

title: a song not about love characters: chuck taylor x trent beretta word count: 1864 part: 1/1 warnings: mild cursing, no character names are said (but the perspective is alluded to be chuck’s and the “best friend” is trent) a/n: hi! so, holy crap i’m actually doing this... i know, it’s freaking me out too. i guess for context, yesterday i literally did not sleep at all and in a 5 am sudden burst of energy, this little fic came out of my brain. i’ve never posted my work online before, so this is kind of a big thing for me? also, this is so different from how i normally write because there is next to no dialogue, and it’s not, uh... funny? but it sure is something ahah

He won’t say it. That one fucking word that has been tormenting him for what feels like his entire life. He will not under any circumstance say it, or hell, even feel it. It sets you up for failure, for a gashing claw directly to your heart as it punctures and plays with what little you have left.

It’s like that song from Hercules, he thinks. The one where Meg is singing by the fountains about her feelings for Hercules and denying them every step of the way. It feels like that, except the brunette knows this isn’t some sappy Disney movie. This is real life, the one that made him hate himself every time he looked in a mirror. The one that gave him no other option to cope with everything that swirls in his mind at blinding rates than to drown what he does have away.

Words were never his strong suit, with him always clinging to actions and movement, as more often than not, his mouth would betray him with what would come out of it.

There’s this burning sensation, festering deep under his skin, well into the flesh, that tingles and jumps no matter what he does. It gets worse when he’s around. Not that he would know it, his friend was never good at picking up on just about anything. Itching, almost, with him unconsciously rubbing his arm over and over trying to forget that was where he had last touched him. A congratulatory pat, and that was it.

The thought of already being dead crosses his mind. That perhaps, he is already dead, and that what he is living now would be his own personal hell. Set up explicitly to torture him for the wrongdoings of when he was alive. He wonders what that life was like, and if the people he knew now were there. That gave him no solace, as even if he were still living, there would still be his best friend there ruining it all.

Ruin in the best way possible, he amends. Because without him, the brunette can’t picture his life in any capacity. There would be none as far as he is concerned. There was so much of him that did not have, that lived in his friend.

Someone a long time ago said they were soulmates. Platonic, he assumed at that moment, was what the man meant. All this time later, he knows what he was getting at. He won’t say it, he never will, but he knows why the other man said it. That memory liked to crawl into his brain sometimes, replaying like a song you have stuck in your head until you can’t take it anymore and finally listen to it. It does not ease your pain, the song is still stuck.

Soulmates were someone that housed all of the pieces of you that you did not have. The parts of you that you could fully - the word - because they were in someone else. Maybe that was why he liked keeping his friend around all the time. Because they were the same person.

Except they weren’t. His only slightly shorter friend was better than him at literally everything, not that it bothered him. It just made for more to... This was getting harder and harder to not say by the ever so slowly ticking seconds.

His mind takes over again. Blocking him even farther from reality than he already was, to think.

It’s the way he smiles, he ponders. But only when it’s at him. Tiny, unguarded, and sweet like pineapple fluff. Adoration is always in there too; along with warmth, and if he himself was feeling extra in his own head, intense longing. He silently prays for the last one. Never has been sure why, but he hopes with everything he’s got, that it’s in there somewhere.

What was longing? Catching his eyes across the room as they sparkle under even the dingiest of LED lights? They’re brown, like rich earth that used to be beneath their feet when they would do an outdoor show. Exposed from years of treading, letting others walk upon it without question, working down to its most basic form. It’s very core. He decides that him and the earth aren’t so different.

There is no reason to be like this. So deep into his own recesses that even the most forceful of tactics will not rouse him. Akin to a coma, however his eyes are certainly still working and there is definitely a concerned friend staring at him through their own pair of sunglasses and a neutral expression.

He says something, slow and quiet like he usually does. It does not compute. His friend says it again. He cannot speak, but he can shrug while moving his gaze to stare past him.

It’s radiant over there, a shining oasis asking to have its glory basked in. Unsurprisingly, it’s him. Recognition helps bring back his question. Longing is time. All of it wasted, even if there is still so much to go. No mercy is given to him, not that he believed he deserved it.

His mind jitters and trails off again as it usually does. It’s his voice, he considers. Peering at him would make you guess it’s low and gritty, but he knows far better than that. His voice is of a baritone, but it’s far too uplifting and sometimes outright high to be anything else. Smooth also felt applicable, calmly finding its way to the right words and pitches as his hands say what his mouth can’t. He really enjoys that quality about him.

Reality is boring, he concludes. Sinking back into his cave of wonders and mostly misfortunes he calls his brain. He has his muse of which to think about... again, and the brunette couldn’t be any more content.

Content is the wrong word. Again, he is no good with those, but he does know that content is something he will never be. His is different though, for a reason he will not say. Fuck, are we really back to thinking about longing? For a third time? Is this what he wanted; to be caught in an infinite time loop, ala Groundhog’s Day, where he relives every thought he’s had for the millionth consecutive time?

To be fair, that was how it always was when he saw him. Everything surfacing at the same time and he gets caught in the crosshairs, winning the wonderful luxury of wading through them again.

His laugh is nice. His hair looks good today. The tank top he has on is way too tight fitting and leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. Not hard to imagine anyways, he’s seen it a thousand times, having roamed it with his hands. But only briefly, and the idea sends him into a tizzy.

One that marks the end, the one that finally has snapped him and made him have a new goal. It’s like drowning again, except not in his usual Crown. This is one where he actually can’t breathe, unable to get above water safely and take those precious gulps he so desperately desires.

He is standing in front of him now, fueled by this very known force that has a known name that managed to carry his battered body to the other side of the room, without him even noticing. There is no one else in the room. Or maybe there is, but he can’t tell. For him, it’s only his friend and himself, which is all he could ever want.

His best friend asks him how he is. He does not answer. The other brunette seemed vaguely alarmed by this, commenting on this fact and letting the notion hang in the air. There is no true reply, not to what he is asking nor to anything else. They stand in silence, pressure building and concern rising, like a dam that’s about to burst open and destroy everything in its wake.

Being forward has always been his calling card. Breaking any tension or an awkward silence with little tact and a lot of bluntness. He’s rough around the edges, as are most things in his life.

This one comes off as a cliff though, hurtling himself off of it and waiting until he hits the bottom. But there is none, all there is- is his best friend, still concerned for his well being, because of course he was. Did he really need another reason?

Now there was even less reason to be cautious. If he didn’t say something now, the brunette was going to faint, the lights behind his green eyes going out like the flickering flames of a candle. Where he would drop, essentially dead to the world, straight to the floor and live there for eternity. Or until his friend kneeled down and checked on him.

That idea… The thought of waking up to his face. Seeing him tending to him because for his friend, life seemingly depended on it. But he didn’t know that. What he did know was that the thick and uncomfortable quiet that had filled the room; reminiscent of a smog like haze, was becoming unbearable.

Caution. Wind. Blunt. Do it. He has to. He will explode if he doesn’t. His best friend is staring at him with what feels like baited breath and stitched brows. He looks completely mental, clearly needing to say something, anything really to amend the situation. At this point it doesn’t matter, he’s so gone for him that even if this irreparably damages their relationship, he would at bare minimum be rewarded with getting real sleep at night.

His mouth opens on its own accord, letting the words waterfall out nearly unceremoniously as he keeps eye contact with his friend.

“I’m in love with you.”

He says it.

The one fucking word that has been tormenting him for what feels like his entire life. He says it out loud, to his best friend’s face, with a few words before and after it. Sure, he could say that they don’t matter as much to this whole ordeal he got himself into, but truly, they make up the full saying that has been playing on loop on his head for months.

His friend doesn’t react, not instantly, staring at him with a blinking gaze as either his brain self-destructs, or tries to figure out a way to let him down easy. Heavy doubt sinks into his bones, weighing him down and taking residence within him.

It’s a new, hellish, spiraling sensation that the brunette was not ready for. He was used to his usual downward hole of thoughts, usually brought about by his unmitigated need to bash himself, but this… This feeling didn’t even compare, with it being so much more destructive and raw, it opened him up like he was a frog being dissected and leaving him vulnerable to the world.

He finally speaks, his words soft and slightly timid as he can’t seem to look away from him. Unlike what he was expecting, his friend's expression was open and understanding, albeit still taken aback by his forwardness.

“I… I love you too.”

#chuck taylor #trent beretta #chuckie t #trent?#no real names #aew fanfiction #wrestling fanfic #shut it liz #tinycaprisun writes #my writing #chuck tea #trenty b #fics #current song: why not me

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betweentheseseams · 4 years

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For Christmas, my aunt gifted me a DNA kit. I’ve always thought they were a bad idea (Where is all that info being stored? What unethical things can a company owning the rights to so much DNA possibly do? Why do white people need to know so badly how white they are, to the point that we created the ultimate Buzzfeed survey to confirm our whiteness? (If you didn’t know, Ancestry/23andMe and the like aren’t especially helpful for non-white folks, due to lack of testing in largely non-white groups. There’s a whole lot more to study on that and I highly suggest you take the time to read up on it)). That being said, most of the adults in my family have done the tests, mainly to appease my aunt, who is essentially our family historian and takes her role very seriously. I had considered the idea of doing one over the years. I never met my biological father. My mother separated from him before she realized she was pregnant with me, and although he was aware that she was pregnant and I had been born, there was no communication there and she met and married my stepfather shortly after I was born. He was my dad growing up, until I turned 18 and we became estranged, after I realized how incredibly toxic he was as a person and he basically disowned me when he discovered I wasn’t interested in following his rules and very racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, and highly uneducated ideas. It caused a lot of issues within our family, but for the most part things have been relatively calm in the 10+ years since.

Fast forward to Christmastime. I had expressed interest in finding out if I had any other siblings, as well as my medical history, to my mother and my aunt. I wasn’t particularly interested in knowing anything about my biological father. Over the years, my mom has mentioned that he wasn’t a particularly good person when they were together, and the last information she’d heard of him was that he’d been arrested for arson at some point in the late 90s. I’ve never really given him much thought, and, as a child, whenever anyone realized that my stepfather wasn’t my actual biological dad, I was extremely vocal in pointing out that I only considered my unknown biological father as the “Sperm Donor”. But the idea of possibly having other siblings, and wanting to have a more complete medical history was compelling enough to me that I sold away my spit and rights to a company.

Come March, I got the results back and sent my aunt a text so she could connect me to our family tree in the app. She immediately went into super detective mode, and within a day found my biological father and several other family members. She confirmed that I didn’t have any other siblings, besides the two I already have, and that I had a living grandmother, several aunts, and a few cousins. She sent me photos, articles, and social media links, and I expressed to her that it was very overwhelming and while I appreciated it, I needed time to process it all. I tentatively went to my biological father’s Facebook page that he shared with his wife, and was extremely underwhelmed by what I saw. This man, a stranger to me, could’ve rivaled the dad who raised me in his ass-backwardness. He might possibly be the only MAGAmaniac in all of Vermont (obviously not, but you know what I mean), and as I already wasn’t interested in knowing him pre-test, this basically confirmed to me that he wasn’t someone I wanted to know. When you’re already a card-carrying member of the Shitty Dads Club™️, do you really need another one?

And that was that. I basically wrote that part of my life out of my mind, as it didn’t have anything to do with me or my day-to-day. The knowledge of having a living grandmother wasn’t appealing to me, as my Momaw (stepfather’s mom) passed four years ago, and was the most amazing grandma and best friend I could have possibly asked for. I feel lucky that I was able to have something SO good come from that connection, along with my two siblings. I don’t need another grandparent because I hit the fucking jackpot of unconditional love and support and guidance with Momaw. I didn’t feel like I was missing out by not knowing anyone else from my paternal biological family, either, as my mom is the youngest of 10 and my family is already massive as is. So it all came as a bit of a surprise when my aunt messaged me out of the blue in early July to inform me that she had taken it upon herself to reach out to my biological father and not only inform him of my existence (which he already knew about), but also sent him photos of me, along with my phone number. Something I neither wanted nor gave her permission to do. Something I hadn’t even expressed interest in. And after telling her yet again that it was overwhelming, she continued to allow this line of communication to stay open, and brought my mother into the mix.

According to my biological father, he apparently believed both my mom and I were dead. He says my maternal grandmother told him that the two of us had died, and he sunk into a deep depression over it, which has followed him for the past 29 years. Never mind the fact that he was in contact with a couple aunts and uncles over the years and so obviously knew that my grandmother had lied to him (if she ever even did so. We can’t know, as she passed when I was 3), or the availability of the fucking internet and basic Google search. In his own words, my aunt reaching out to him and “informing” him of the existence of his nearly-30 year old daughter “blew his whole world open”. Insert infinity eye roll emojis here.

As you could already tell, I was both upset that my aunt broke my trust in such a huge way, and thoroughly unimpressed by what she was sharing from him. I spoke with my mom about it several times, expressing how much my aunt had hurt me and frustrated me with her actions, and her choosing to take matters into her own hands and speaking for me. That might be the biggest annoyance for me of all, that she for some reason felt compelled to speak on my behalf for something I had no interest in or desire to explore, and took the option of some anonymity from me. My voice is my most important belonging, and having someone deign to speak for me infuriates me. And although my mother listened to me expressing how upset the whole thing made me, I found out a week later that she herself had been in contact with my biological father.

That was a kick to the ribs. She and I had spent years working on and building a relationship of trust and support, after a childhood and early adulthood of never being able to trust her. She was largely absent through a huge portion of my life when I needed her most, and it has taken years for me to build up my trust and faith in her. If you had told me ten years ago that my mother would become my best friend and confidant, I would have laughed my throat raw. But life is funny, and she did. And then she broke that trust in such a painful way, even after hearing how much my aunt’s choice to reach out to my biological father caused a massive rift between us. And Mom chose to create her own. For the first time in years, I didn’t want to speak to or see her or hear from her. I made that clear to her, and kept my distance until I could calm myself enough to speak to her without saying something that could irreparably damage our relationship. I reiterated that I had no interest in knowing my biological father, that I didn’t want to hear from him, and that it was a huge betrayal by her to continue speaking to him and fostering any sense of hope in him that I wished to have anything to do with him. Although things have been tense the last couple weeks, she and I have slowly been working through it.

And then tonight, as I arrived at work, a text from an unknown number popped up. A long text, from my biological father, who chose to ignore what my aunt and mother were supposed to have told him, that I didn’t want to have any contact. He introduced himself and reiterated his story about my maternal grandmother lying to him about Mom and I dying, said he wanted to get to know me and show me all the love he has for me, and that from what he’s heard I’m a lot like him. Things that I have no interest in hearing, don’t take to heart, and don’t feel particularly moved or motivated by. And I’m just. Exhausted.

Exhausted.

I don’t want this connection or half-assed truths or unbearable weight of expectations that have come to land so heavily on my shoulders.

When you sign in to take your DNA test, there is a disclaimer that you might find out information that could be upsetting and lead to more questions than answers. That continuing with the test could cause problems in your family and person life.

They weren’t kidding.

#personal #ramblings #dna test #23andme #ancestrydna #writing #writeblr #writters on tumblr #writtingcommunity

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strivingscribe · 5 years

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ILIC ~ CH 29

It’s Lost Its Charm by MsMoon

Chapter 29 ~ the Morning After

Chapters: 29/?

Chapter Navigation: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15,16, 17, 18,19,20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29,

Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age,

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Violence,

Relationships: I feel like it’s a little early for that…

Summary: As dreams went, she supposed being inside Dragon Age wasn’t too bad… At least she wasn’t the Herald (again). Or the Warden (again). Or Hawke (again).

Notes: Hope you guys enjoy this one :)

First came the smell, though even that wasn’t what woke her. Not quite anyway. Her stomach echoed with a sharp pang to the smell of cooked meat, but what really woke her was the sound. The rusted creak of the door opening and closing, the subtle rattle of a utensil on a plate...soft cloth.

Her eyes pried open, thankful of the dim light. Drifting slowly to her left... her eyes landed on Sam, asleep upright in a chair. His hair was a riot, and his five o’clock shadow had transitioned into ten o’clock scruff.

She cast her gaze around the room, finally noting where the sound was coming from.

“Syra?” she whispered, leveling up on an elbow. The little servant from the kitchens with ash-blonde hair. She was high-stepping over something on the floor before Amy's guttural voice snapped those enormous blue eyes of her up front and center.

“Oh! Amy!” she whispered in a rush, half skipping to the bed. Luckily, instincts honed from long hours in the kitchen kept the plate of food she carried aloft and balanced. “oh! Amy! When we heard what happened we were so worried! Are you hungry?” this confession and question were both rushed one after the other, leaving Amy more than a little confused. There was a joke to be had about care-takers equating health, worry, and food all together... but who had the time for that?

Amy sat up, surprised at the strange union of opposites she felt. She was, at the same time, vital and waning. Weak and strong. Hungry and repulsed at the thought of food.

“I...think I should take it slow.” she determined. “Is everything else going well?”

Syra set the plate of food down on the side table and wrung her hands in her apron a bit. “As well as can be expected. I was sent to rouse Master Trevelyon… He’s had a rough time of it, but being just past eight bells...it’s time he was awake.” the girl’s eyes scattered about the room. “Not sure about your... others here though…”

“Others?”

“The elves sleepin’ on your floor.” she said, motioning towards the foot of the bed. Amy’s frown deepened as she interpreted what Syra was saying. “Shall I bring meals for them as well?”

Amy nodded. “Please do.” she tugged the blankets off, surprised to find her legs bare…. the dress she’d been given was still on, even if a touch rucked up. It hit just above her knees, so she was covered… Why would anyone remove her…

...breeches?

She suddenly wondered if Sera were nearby.

“I’ll wake everyone.” Amy promised. Syra nodded and hopped out of the room.

“Sam.” Amy called softly. He took a deep breath but barely stirred at all. Amy leaned into a standing position, staggering forward a bit before coming to the side of Sams chair. “Sammy, it’s time to wake up.” she said, combing his hair out of his face with gentle fingers.

His head tossed back a bit as he stretched, his spine arching away from the chair back before he relaxed again. Weary eyes cracked open, half-lidded from sleep. It was nothing but naked exhaustion until shock rounded his eyes.

“Amy!” he breathed.

“Morning.” she murmured, stepping away, till she was seated on the bed again. She didn’t want to perch here too long, but she didn't want to push herself either.

She winced in surprise her arms drawing up and away as Sam slid forward, landing on his knees by her bedside, his arms wrapping around her waist as he buried his face against her hip.

“Thank the Maker.” his voice was rusted, from fear or relief, Amy wasn’t sure. “Solas was livid. He kept saying things like ‘irreparable damage’ and ‘unprecedented fallout’.”

Amy let her hand rest on the curve of his head, hoping to comfort him.

“And Siheta? Bax?”

“Bax had no answers, just wide eyes. Siheta was… she tried to rally for us.”

“Solas is an excellent voice of caution. He understands that potential doesn’t always translate into something that isn’t harmful. Siheta is a comfort because she understands that something that starts bad doesn’t always stay that way.”

She felt him relax before his head snapped up. He drew back, avid gaze never leaving her face.

“You’re talking.”

She smiled. “So it would seem.”

He let out a startled breath that could’ve been a laugh.

“It’s going to be ok.” she assured, her hand drifting down to his shoulder. “Now, help me wake the others.”

She’d wanted to help but she ended up leaning over the footboard of the bed while Sam knelt to shake Tunan awake ...this began a domino effect, as Tunan shook Tunen awake, and Tunen was spooning Magpie. Amy lingered over the footboard, too afraid that once she got on the floor, she’d need help getting back up again.

Once awake, and to the point where she was aware of Amy, Magpie sprung up, nearly knocking Sam over to climb on the bed.

“You’re awake! And...better?” Magpie asked.

Amy nodded. “Sorry to trouble you.”

Magpie blinked, shaking her head in a slight double-take. “You’re...you sound great!”

“Another fantastic discovery.” she said, half leaning back against Sam’s shoulder as he docked on the side of the bed behind her. “We should let Leliana know…”

“I’m more concerned with breakfast.” Tunen grumbled, rubbing her eyes.

“That should be on the way.” Amy assured. “Why are all of you on the floor?”

“Because Maggie wouldn’t leave, and there were a lot of opinions about touching.” Tunen complained, half crawling to the other side of the bed until she could climb her way into a standing position...then...she just...toppled over like a tree that had been felled for lumber.

Her brother watched this without surprise or judgement, before rising and rolling up the abandoned bedrolls.

Luckily that was when the door opened, and a very bouncy Syra looped through. Miraculously, the multiple plates of food she carried remained undisturbed.

“Thank you, Syra.” Amy said.

“Yes.” Tunan murmured, taking a couple of plates from her. “Thank you.” he murmured before bringing it around to his sister.

“Oh, don’t mention it.”

“If it isn’t too much trouble?” Amy began.

“Yes?” Syra’s voice was eager, poised like the bands of a slingshot, ready to spring.

“If you wouldn’t mind quietly telling Leliana that I’m awake?”

Syra blinked owlishly, before leaning in and asking. “Should anyone else know?”

Amy thought about that before replying… “Perhaps...not yet.” when Syra nodded, Amy Smiled. “Thank you, dear.”

“This is exciting!” she chirped. “Happy to help.” and then she darted away.

“Kitchen staff…. they’re always hellishly busy… I almost feel bad.” Amy murmured.

“Please.” Magpie grunted around a sausage. “Any break from the kitchens is a good thing.”

Amy nodded. The Inquisition had a lot of people to feed.

“Well… Good morning, everyone.”

Amy felt Sam chuckle behind her, which was startling. It was then that she was struck by how common it had become…. that is... Sam never let anyone touch him. This prolonged contact felt shocking. She recalled the feeling of pins and needles any time Sam was very close before now… it was gone. Had this been some sort of energy from the mark? If so, how did it connect with her?

“So… you’re all better?” Sam asked, his voice hedged by uncertainty.

Amy considered the question as she considered the porridge Magpie was pushing her way.

“Getting there.” She announced at last. “A little shaky, but no bouts of overwhelming agony.”

A breath puffed Sam up and deflated him in the next second.

“So… if you’d touched the mark months ago, you would’ve been fine?”

Amy shrugged. “Impossible to say now. Maybe it would’ve killed me. Maybe I needed time to adjust...or maybe I would’ve gotten over it in the same amount of time.” she shook her head. “If what Siheta and I have discussed has taught me anything… it’s that the physical world does its best to adapt around the veil. That which doesn't adapt, changes… it’s equal parts skill, resilience, and luck.”

“But, you are feeling ok… right?” Tunan asked.

“I probably need to take it slow. Drink plenty of water and have easy foods.”

Magpie pushed a cup of water into her hands, and Amy laughed softly. She took tiny sips, then paused for any reaction from her stomach… when none came, she followed those sips with gulps. She felt the muscles in her face relax, and knew she was probably fine (even if a touch dehydrated). She still felt a little breathless, but… she would build up those reserves again.

A loud thunk clunked through the room before the door creaked open and closed again. Leliana wafted into a room of people watching Amy drink water…

“You certainly know how to keep people on the edges of their seats.” she remarked.

“Let’s hope it’s a phase.” Amy half groaned. “I won’t speak for the rest of you, but I don’t think I can take much more of this.”

Leliana’s eyebrows brose, a new light in her eyes. “You do sound much improved.”

Amy nodded. “Small favors. Our debriefing sessions have been painful on both sides, I know.”

In the time Sam had been gone to scout for Skyhold, Amy and Leliana had hidden away in her private quarters. Amy dictating information which she wrote in her own hand, and Leliana scribbling it down in the Thedosian equivalent. While Leliana never complained about this arrangement, Amy’s broken speech had been aggravating for Amy if nothing else.

“I assume today will be a day of recovery.” Leliana murmured, and she didn’t even sound resentful about it. Leliana had been accommodating in their interactions, but Amy wasn’t sure if this was because Amy had useful secrets, or because Leliana cared about Amy as a person. Still, she searched for hope.

“Yes.” Sam said, a strange firmness stiffening his tone. It reminded Amy of Conner when he tried to use ‘dad-voice™’ to convey authority.

Leliana only nodded in response. “What are your plans for the day?”

“Plans?” Sam asked, confused.

“A slow tour, I think.” Amy supplied, getting a sigh from Sam. The man’s eyes drifted closed, as he silently prayed for endurance.

“That’s 5 gold you owe me.” Magpie announced in triumph.

“That wasn’t a real bet.” Sam grumbled, still not opening his eyes.

“Would it be a real bet if you’d won?” Magpie snarked.

“Wench.”

“Children.” Amy admonished, before returning to her conversation with Leliana. “Most likely a very slow tour.”

Leliana nodded. “We should begin spreading word of your recovery. Not that it would stop everyone from working themselves into a frenzy upon seeing you.”

Amy nodded. “I imagine keeping it simple won’t curtail any flights of fantasy.”

“It hasn’t worked for me.” Sam muttered.

“Another brick in the myth of the Herald.” she bemoaned. Amy smiled, trying to accept this with as much grace as possible. “We shouldn’t begrudge them the stories they need to tell themselves in order to have hope.”

“I just wish those stories weren’t about me.” Sam groused.

“Now you know how Hawke feels.” Amy murmured. Amy felt herself tense up when Sam leaned over and embraced her. “Uh… Sammy?... I’m not wearing any breaches.” she murmured.

Sam drew back, staring at her in shock. “You’re not…. what?” He leaned forward, lifting the bottom of the blanket she was wrapped in near her ankle, revealing a very bare calf.

He looked back up at her, meeting her gaze before they both muttered, “Sera.” at almost exactly the same time.

“Perhaps now is a good time to mention that Madam Vivienne has been asking after your condition.” Leliana informed, a smirk tugging at her mouth. “It seems she’s seeing your latest escapade as a reason to provide you with new clothing.”

Amy’s eyes drifted toward the ceiling. “Thank Zod.” She murmured in a sigh of relief. Her eyes darted to Sam, who looked surprised at her words before she turned back to Leliana. “Leliana, I’m going to pose a scenario to you, because I’m uncertain exactly what I should do.”

Leliana’s eyebrows rose, but she only nodded as if to say, ‘go on’.

“Without indebting or ingratiating myself to Madame de Fer, I would like to make it clear that her counsel is appreciated in all things. That being said, I cannot stress enough how much I want her help in attaining...better clothing.”

And at that, Leliana did smile. And it was not cruel or patronizing in the slightest.

“Depending on how quickly you would like to go about this, I could send a servant with a message expressing your desire to meet with her and to inquire when she may expect to receive you.” she offered, and Amy found it a strange mixture of touching and curious. She couldn’t help but wonder why Leliana seemed so pleased to be helpful...

“Orlesians.” Sam groaned.

“Madame de Fer isn’t native to Orlais,” Amy informed. “...it’s simply the country in which she thrives.” She let out a deep breath, her eyes pinning Sam in place. “And that attitude of yours is unbecoming.” she added, sounding much like a big sister fussing at a younger brother. “It would serve you well to recall that many people make up this Inquisition. Vital, necessary people of diverse backgrounds and skills, and all of them bring….” Amy’s mouth tilted in a frown as she shrugged, “Je ne sais quoi… but they bring it to us.”

Sam blinked rapidly at her.

“What...what did you just say?” Magpie asked in the resounding stillness. “That phrase? What was it?”

“I don’t know what.” Amy responded.

“What you just said. The Genis ayqua.” Magpie clarified, or tried to.

Amy’s eyes scrunched up as she huffed little laughs around the phrase. “Free shavak ado.”

“What??” Sam's aghast cry was betrayed by the joy tugging at his lips and the light shining in his eyes. “What are you on about, you mad, mad woman?”

Leliana laughed softly with her, and the elves and Sam continued to stare between the two of them.

“We’ve lost them.” Tunan observed, his tone dull as it was blunt. He sighed, looking over at his sister, who seemed ready to fall asleep again.

Amy cleared her throat. “Sorry. ‘Je ne sais quoi’ is...” she almost said ‘French’, then thought perhaps Orlesian was a better term… but stopped herself, because she wasn’t certain about dialects or accents or...anything really. “….it means ‘I don’t know what’. It’s...My mother would say it often. Usually, to ambiguously describe a quality a person had that was just… just something, but it was unnamable.”

“Very aptly put.” Leliana murmured, still smiling, though it was more reserved than before. Still… she’d expressed more joy in Amy’s presence this morning than Amy had ever seen of her. It made Amy ...hopeful. “I will have your request sent to her, and you can most likely expect a response within the hour. She will undoubtedly send a servant with information of when she’d like to expect you, and we can go from there. Though… I don’t know if it’s entirely necessary. You are both in the same camp. Still. She will look kindly on the gesture of gentility.”

“Oh… she will.” Amy said with a nod. “I also don’t want to imply that I’m superior to her, or beneath her in any way.” Amy explained, her eyes drifting to the bedding. “This simple civility would be a way to do that.”

She didn’t see Sam rolling his eyes, still unimpressed with the Orleasian frippery.

“But…” this break in the conversation came from Magpie. “I mean, I get why you want to start moving about, but…” her face slipped into an uneasy grimace. “A full tour?”

“Oh, no. Absolutely not. I can’t walk the entire field, I don’t think.” Amy soothed, and both Magpie and Sam seemed to breathe a little easier at that admission. “I certainly don’t want to try. Cullen might just pull his hair out if I caused that much of a disruption.”

“You might be surprised.” Sam grumbled, staring absently at nothing. “He’ll most likely be in a generous mood where you’re concerned.”

Amy blinked, not entirely clear in Sam’s meaning.

“He was very worried for you, Amy.” Magpie announced. “All of the soldiers were.”

“I don’t doubt that, but that doesn’t mean…” Amy sighed. “Especially now, when I’m not sure of my limits, I think I’ll be avoiding the field until specifically summoned.”

“Safe bet.” Tunan muttered. “Where do you think you’ll need us?”

Amy looked from him to his slumped over twin. “Why don’t you two stay and sleep in on an actual bed.” Amy proposed.

Tunan’s mouth hung open slightly as he tried to think of a response. Tunen beat him to it. “I can get behind that.” her words vibrated through the blankets beneath her face as she tried to burrow under them. Amy couldn’t help but smile at the display.

“Are you sure we can’t convince you to take a bit of a lay-in as well?” Magpie nearly pleaded.

“Might take a nap later on in the day if things get rough. But… we gotta start sometime.” Amy shook her head, feeling that tightness in her chest again as she thought of everything that needed to be done. “And oh, Scooby Dooby-doo, we’ve got work to do now.”

#ILIC #It's Lost Its Charm #Dragon Age #Dragon Age Fan Fiction #DAFF #DAFF It's Lost Its Charm #Amy McManus #Magpie #Tunan Lavellan #Tunen Lavellan #Samuel Trevelyan #Leliana

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ourmamafatima · 3 years

Text

Ask Mama Fatima: How to deal with neglect by your own mother as an adult?

Assalamu alaikum my dear daughter,

I pray this finds you in the best of health and imaan.

There is a lot to unpack here but I’d like to start off with the following hadith.

'A'isha, the wife of Allah's Apostle (ﷺ), reported Allah's Apostle (ﷺ) as saying: Kindness is not to be found in anything but that it adds to its beauty and it is not withdrawn from anything but it makes it defective. [Sahih Muslim]

The beloved prophet [saw] explained that rifq (kindness) is the door to every kheir (goodness), and whoever is deprived from kindness is deprived from good.

One of the most constant struggles we endure throughout life is managing people, whether it’s professionally, socially or within our family. If we look at family relationships specifically, these can sometimes be a bit harder because there is a level of justified entitlement. Within families everyone has a duty in how they are supposed to treat the other whether that’s between spouses, siblings, parents or children. And so when you’re the one who is constantly giving and fulfilling that duty, but having your own needs neglected, it can be painful.

The thing is we don’t choose our parents. If that was a decision that we could have made, we would have all chosen the best and most ideal ones. But this dunia is a test, and it may be that Allah is testing us through our parents.

As I am sure you know, Allah enjoined upon all believers to treat their parents with ihsaan. With excellence. And this is not dependent on how your parents treat you. This is an unconditional duty that Allah has given us.

Your Lord has commanded that you should worship none but Him, and that you be kind to your parents. If either or both of them reach old age with you, say no word that shows impatience with them, and do not be harsh with them, but speak to them respectfully.

[Quran, 17:23]

Even if your parents ask you to do something that goes against Islam, you are not to obey them, however you are still to be kind to them.

But if they endeavor to make you associate with Me that of which you have no knowledge,1 do not obey them but accompany them in [this] world with appropriate kindness and follow the way of those who turn back to Me [in repentance]. Then to Me will be your return, and I will inform you about what you used to do.

[Quran, 31:15]

One thing you must never forget is Allah is Al Adl. The Most Just. Parents are accountable to Allah for how they treat their children. Absolutely everything will be accounted for on judgement day and whatever pain or wrongdoing you endure, Allah sees it. Our duty is do what pleases Allah and leave the rest to Him.

“Every soul, for what it has earned, will be retained.” [Quran, 74:38]

“...that no soul shall bear the burden of another;” [Quran, 53:38]

“And Luqmān said], "O my son, indeed if it [i.e., a wrong] should be the weight of a mustard seed and should be within a rock or [anywhere] in the heavens or in the earth, Allah will bring it forth. Indeed, Allah is Subtle1 and Aware.” [Quran, 31:16]

What comes to my mind is the story of Prophet Ibrahim AS and his relationship with his father who not only punished him, but expelled him and also agreed to have him thrown into the fire for breaking the idols. Despite this the Quran records Ibrahim AS making dua for his fathers forgiveness.

“...except when Abraham said to his father, ‘I will pray for forgiveness for you though I cannot protect you from God’––[they prayed] ‘Lord, we have put our trust in You; we turn to You; You are our final destination.” [Quran, 60:4]

“...forgive my father, for he is one of those who have gone astray-” [26:86]

What this teaches us, is that we have the capacity within us to have a holistic view of who our parents are as individuals, and recognise that they are not perfect. Recognizing that our parents can do wrong does not detract from the status that Allah has given them, nor does it undermine the duty that we have to serve our parents with excellence.

Our parents had an entire upbringing that was different to ours. Some have lived through wars, some have had painful experiences. Some parents were never shown healthy love by their own parents. Some parents carry cultural baggage that is oppressive and not from Islam but they don’t know how to let go. This does not justify them mistreating their children but you can acknowledge this and use that as the starting point for healing and improving your relationship.

Shaytan will try to convince you that this is not your burden to bear and that since your parents decided to have you, they need to step up and make a change. Not you.

Sometimes Shaytan will try to undermine you and say “why should you be the one to make the effort? Surely your parents should be the ones doing this? They’re the ones not fulfilling their roles as parents, at the very least they should meet you halfway? You’re the victim here.”

And do you know what? You probably are the victim. But if you’re reading this, you also probably have more awareness and ability to unlearn damaging narratives, and to change the dynamic between you and your mother.

My dear daughter, please make sure you know your deen and you know yourself. There are parents who do insult their children thinking that it is love. Words can cause irreparable damage and sometimes the deen is manipulated as a form of control. If you know yourself and you know Allah and you know the duty that Allah has given you, then you will be able to withstand the difficult times with your parents. By withstanding I don’t mean that you won’t ever feel upset or hurt, but you will be able to pick yourself up and recognize what has truth in it and what doesn’t.

Remember that both the reward and sin that comes from parents is different to other people. Your parents absolutely cannot be treated like others. You cannot hold them to the same standards as your friends and you cannot treat them like your equivalent. Allah gave them a superior level over you.

Remember, the word ihsaan means to the best of your ability. So you think about how you would treat a friend. The kindness, the thoughtfulness, the patience. You take the best of them and that is what you should give to your parents. Even if they don’t reciprocate it do not lose sight of the fact that Allah sees what you do.

“whoever has done an atom’s-weight of good will see it,” [Quran, 99:7]

“But those who hold fast to the Book and establish prayer - indeed, We will not allow to be lost the reward of the righteous people.]” [Quran, 7:170]

“As for those who believe and do good deeds- We do not let the reward of anyone who does a good deed go to waste-” [18:30]

My dear daughter, I promise you that if you remain consistent in treating your parents with ihsaan, the doors of kheir and baraka will open. This will take time. It may take years, but things will change for the better. This is a promise from Allah. Not from me.

“And not equal are the good deed and the bad. Repel [evil] by that [deed] which is better; and thereupon, the one whom between you and him is enmity [will become] as though he was a devoted friend.” [Quran, 41:34]

That ayah tells you that with any person when you approach them with ihsan then with time your life will change. Allah will for sure give you a way out whether that is through the relationship improving, or a different way out entirely.

Sometimes what really hurts is you see the way other parents treat their children and wonder why you don’t have that. If this is the case for you, the best thing that I can suggest is to find a network that feeds you love and builds your self esteem rather than fuels your resentment towards your parents. Surround yourself with people who remind yourself of all the good things your parents have done for you, and use this to remember that they do love you and want the best for you. Although they have faults, there is a lot more goodness in your parents. Build relationships with people who can be a source of fulfilling love for you. Allah created us as social beings who thrive with the love and support and meaningful relationships with people can be incredibly healing.

And lastly please pray for her. Dua changes qadr and always remember that people can change. Ask Al Rahman, The Most Merciful, to soften your mother’s heart. When Allah’s mercy touches anything it changes it for the better and protects it during hardships. Ensure that your good treatment of your mother is unconditional and trust me, I know that this isn’t easy but remember like the hadith I started off with. Kindness does not touch anything except that it beautifies it.

My lovely daughter, I pray that Allah softens the heart of your mother and puts love and kindness between you both. I pray that He heals your heart from the pain that it has endured and frees it of any resentment. I pray that He elevates you and makes you of the people of the highest Jannah and I pray that He allows you to be the most wonderful mother to your children in sha Allah.

Whatever good you derived from this was from Allah, and if I have made any mistakes, it is from me. If I have misunderstood anything then please reach out me my dearest and I will do my best.

Love ❤️

Duas always,

Mama Fatima

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ank-fan · 7 years

Note

The name Iason means Healer do you think there is a meaning behind it or was just a random pick from Rieko Yoshihara?

Thank you so much for the question Anon. I love ranting speculatively about this kind of questions!

I do think there are several reasons why Yoshihara-sensei chose the name “Iason”, still I’m pretty sure that they have little to do with literal, physical healing. Iason is definitely more apt at, and keen on, breaking people rather than healing them. It should also be noted that the name Ιάσων, if derived from the verb ἰάομαι, could also mean (figuratively): to remedy, repair, make whole (or redeem if we take into account Biblical usage). Which is, in my opinion, much more significant to the role Iason ends up playing in the novels.There also is another meaning of ἰάομαι that is: strong, powerful. Thus Iason could be named so because he is objectively very powerful, but this is a very immediate interpretation, that leaves very little room for speculation.

Truth to be told the mythical Ιάσων (whom I will refer to as Jason for clarity) has not much to do with the medical act of healing either, his main “healing power” is about bringing the golden fleece back to Greece and thus grant a proper “burial” to Phrixus and break the curse plaguing Pelias and the city of Iolcus rather than any medical healing. Of course: the golden fleece has incredible healing abilities, but in my opinion, that is not the crux of the myth. The myth is about a purification rite, thus Jason can be perceived as a shaman of sorts leading the rite and, in that optic, his figure was used as a symbol by alchemists, but I will say more about that later in this rant.

A good way to begin this analysis is by listing the more immediate parallels between the mythical Jason and Iason.

Both Iason and Jason are blond, beautiful and the leader of a group of exceptional individuals at the top of their society which they manage to control and lead up to a certain point

Both are exceptional individuals destined for greatness, and both want power for themselves.

Both can be incredibly charming (Iason is deviously so, and Jason, seduction of Medea aside, manages to talk Aeëtes down from his paroxysm of ire and convince the king to grant him the possibility to try and earn the golden fleece, albeit through impossible feats only thanks to his polite conersation)

Both spend some time in disguise (Jason is recognised by Pelias only because he is “the man with one sandal”, and in the novels we see that Iason, when outside of Eos or Riki’s apartment in Apatia, almost always changes the colour of his hair and wears a visor not to be recognised).

Depending on the version of the myth you take into consideration both can be seen as deeply emotionally immature and struggling to form and handle interpersonal relationship because they never were part of a familial unit (Jason is smuggled away as an infant by his mother to be saved from death and raised by Chiron, while Iason is an artificial being who was taught to look down on humanity).

Both manipulate people, and both can be ruthless (Jason, among other things, leaves Heracles behind despite his companions’ protests and abandons Medea, while Iason is pretty much the definition of ruthless).

The might and value of both characters is symbolised by a golden fleece (Iason’s hair and Chrysomallus’ skin).

Both die ignored by their society (Tanagura in the novels is very careful about not saying a single word about the destruction of Dana Bahn and Raoul makes sure to keep Iason’s name out of the whole mess) and in a way that is as pathetic as it is dramatic (Jason is crushed as an old man by the mast of his rotting ship Argo as he is trying to relieve old lost glories, and Iason looses his legs and dies in a rotting old ruin by the action of someone who he saw as infinitely below himself).

Both have the favour of a god-like being that they later loose through their actions (Jupiter for Iason and Hera for Jason, here we start to see an interesting pattern).

And, most importantly, the fate of both is defined by one act of kindness and several horrific ones (even though Jason is usually framed by the narrative as an accomplice in them rather than the main perpetrator).

In the last two similarities, in my opinion, we see a beautiful subversion of the myth and the reason why Jason’s and Iason’s two “acts of healing” are so dramatically different and similar at the same time.Because I do think that both characters are linked to one “healing”, still the object of each healing, its methods, and the reasons behind it are very different. In my opinion is pretty apparent that Yoshihara-sensei took at least some inspiration from the Greco-Roman world while writing Ai no Kusabi. From the title of one novel (Petere, a Latin verb that means “to ask”) to the name of Lambda 300 (Jupiter, like the latin name of Zeus),Apatia, Eos, Kirie, and Tanagura itself (that might be inspired by the old Tanagra), to the whole issue with slavery, oligarchy, and the treatment of strangers. So it makes sense that she would choose the name of the deuteragonist from Greco-Roman tradition too, and with good reasons.

Jason’s one act of kindness, that wins him the favours of Hera, is to help an old lady cross one stream by carrying her. That is how he looses one sandal before entering the usurper’s court and is recognised. Still, unbeknownst to Jason, the old lady is not an old lady at all, but the goddess Hera in disguise who, impressed by the youth’s act of piety that reflects the values she embodies (respect for the family and traditions), decides to favour him from that moment onward, granting him a place in society through her influence.On the other hand Iason’s one act of kindness proves to be his undoing. By choosing to save Guy and sacrifice himself to save Riki Iason is abandoning everything that grants him power and life. He is knowingly leaving behind all the values and precepts he followed for his whole existence. By that action Iason is loosing the last dreg of Jupiter’s favour he still held by rejecting its dictated laws to follow his (new and still very shaky) “ethics”. In that moment he explicitly acknowledges not only Riki’s importance to him, but Riki’s dignity and pride, going as far as endangering himself to protect them. That action, though, is depriving the system and Jupiter of an important instrument, thus it becomes a senseless waste of resources for it, and (if we leave behind all of our ethics and judge that act of kindness purely from Jupiter’s point of view) Iason’s actions in Dana Bahn are actually detrimental for the order and stability of his society. Which could lead to another interesting addendum about how Amoi’s code of morals is twisted to the point that good becomes evil and evil becomes good, but that is a whole other issue that here I do not have space to explore properly.

Here lies the first subversion. Jason’s act of kindness starts his story, it is the first clue we are given of his value, in a way that act saves his life and allows him to pursue his destiny as a hero since it is Hera herself that puts in his mind the idea to suggest Pelias to send him on the quest for the golden fleece.Meanwhile Iason’s act of kindness is the one that closes his story, that leads him to his death and that would, if known, irreparably damage his reputation in the eyes of his society. Iason’s act of kindness makes him loose the “golden fleece”.Thus, while Jason’s act of kindness is what makes him, Iason’s act of kindness is the one that breaks him. Not just that, but while Jason helps the old lady without thinking too much about it, because that course of action is the one that he was raised to perceive as “right, Iason is quite clearly torn about what to do, his act of kindness would have costed him much even if he had not died as a consequence of it. I think the old anime is much better than the books in showing that. Iason sees Riki’s plea to save Guy as the ultimate proof that he has failed in the one thing that (for worse or worse, there isn’t much better in Amoi if we do not consider Norris’ love for his geezer XD) he truly cared for. There is nothing spontaneous in Iason’s actions there.

This is no serene evil cyborg acting spontaneously. He is hurting.Not to mention: this is the most emotional vulnerability we see Iason show in front of anyone ever, let alone Riki whom he purposefully tries to keep guessing about the “true value” he sees in him for fear of loosing control. So, while Jason is torn about his evil deeds and acts kindly without thinking, for Iason the opposite is true.

Jason ends up redeeming a kingdom that he shall never rule because of his evil deeds, he gains the fleece but immediately looses his rights to glory because of the way he escapes Pelias’plan to kill him. In contrast Iason rules a kingdom from the beginning (albeit under Jupiter) precisely because of his evil deeds while his redemption, his act of healing, is private, personal. That has also to do with the fact Amoi is an unescapable dystopia though.Both Iason’s and Jason’s stories are a diminuendo, two downward spirals, but, while Jason is able to redeem his people but not himself, Iason is only able to redeem himself in the end, damaging his society, and his one good action is a suffered one, something he has to force himself to do.

Which leads us directly to what Iason hasn’t to force himself to do, namely: being a horrible person (GlaDOS wasn’t even testing for that! XD).Iason, from the beginning of the novels almost all through them, has no qualms about using and abusing people, which is why Katze is so surprised by the way Riki has managed to change him into someone able to see the reason why Judd Kuger might still love his son despite the fact that Manon is only a nuisance. Here lies the second subversion. In all the versions of Jason’s myth I know of Jason is always shown to have several qualms about Medea’s ruthless plans. Jason is not vicious by nature, Iason, even at his best, is a sadist.

Both Jason and Iason are controlled by forces higher than them that they cannot escape or defy (it is very telling how Iason has to make a whole convoluted plan just to be able to leave for Dana Bahn without alerting his peers and Jupiter), but while Iason is the one moving the pieces on the chessboard, Jason is much more dependant on others. To use a chess metaphor: Jason is the king, Iason is the queen. Jason might be the semi-shamanic guide that leads his peers toward the golden fleece, still most of the heroic acts and plans along the way are made by others. Jason depends on Medea for getting the fleece, escaping Colchis, and surviving Pelias. Jason depends on Orpheus (hi there Orphe Zavi), on Heracles, on all his companions to be frank, for most of his adventures. The one moment Jason is truly alone and desperate is when he dies, having lost all those that might have loved him.On the other hand Iason is incredibly self reliant, he has pawns and a grand total of one friend, but he plays his cards close to the chest; he is very good at working with and in a group, still his plans are his own, he relies on his own strength even when he should not do so. Even when his fellow Blondies have lost respect for him and would gladly trod on his carcass he can still force them to grant him permission to move Riki to Apatia. During his life Iason is almost a monad, despite the wealth of people that would gladly offer him company, still, in the moment when he dies, he is not alone. Iason dies during a deep bonding moment, I think as happy as he ever was, and with the one person he, in his scary twisted and dangerously obsessive way, loved, by his side. Not just that, but Riki comes back of his own accord when he could have walked away free, proving that there was something more than hate and fear that he felt towards Iason.Jason dies desperate trying to relive old glories and leave in search of something, what he doesn’t know himself, while Iason dies happy after having left all of his glory behind (along with a couple of legs), but having gained the one thing he truly wanted. Which could be interpreted as creepy total control, but I do not think it was for several reasons, authorial intent first and foremost.

Another element worth mentioning, in my opinion, is the rite of purification that allows the hero back into society. Jason and Medea go through one right after having escaped the Colchis. In most version of the myth the Argonauts leave in secret since Aeëtes, the king that held the golden fleece and father to Medea, went back on his word once Jason overcame the impossible proves he had set (thanks to Medea) and threatened to kill all the Argonauts. So Jason and Medea stole the fleece and, in the most common version of the myth, Medea also kidnapped her young half-brother. This way, when Aeëtes pursued them, she cut the boy to pieces and threw the pieces overboard, forcing her father to stop and recover the remains of his son in order to give him a proper burial. This act saved the mission, yet was so horribly inconceivable for the Greek sensibilities to force both Jason and Medea to seek purification in Circe’s domain. Circe, Medea’s aunt, purified them allowing the couple to travel back in Greece and re-join the “civilised society”. Still, ultimately, despite Jason’s and Medea’s efforts, they were unable to do so. Partially because of the fact that they committed another awful crime to enter the city of Iolcus, convincing the daughters of Pelias to cut their father to pieces in the hope of rejuvenating him. Thus, what should have been Jason’s triumph turns into him relinquishing all rights on the crown or the fleece and escaping like a disgraced exile with his wife.

This, in my opinion, can be compared with Iason’s attempt at re-normalising the situation after Riki’s year and a half of freedom. Iason tries quite desperately to make Riki fit in his old life, in the Amoian system, going as far as submitting to almost all of Orphe’s rules , but there he ultimately fails, because not only Riki is not a person, or a pet, that can live in Eos, but also because Riki’s presence and influence has changed him to the point of making him unfit for his society. He cannot accept to show Riki, he fights against the house arrest Orphe decrees, he actually cares about Riki’s mental wellbeing (up to a certain point and in his twisted way that doesn’t stop him from abusing Riki, but he does). Besides, soon enough, Riki becomes involved in another crime in Eos, like Jason and Medea did in Corinth. So Iason’s attempt at “cleaning his name” in the eyes of his society fails as much as Jason’s and Medea’s does.

This leads us to two interesting observations.

The first is wether we can read the Jason/Iason parallelism in the light of Seneca’s interpretation of the mythical Jason.Seneca wrote a tragedy about Jason and Medea called “Medea” in which he explored the classical theme of “civilised hero is dragged down by a barbarian woman” under the light of Stoicism. The tragedy is set, like all of the tragedies by the same name, after the exile of Medea and Jason from Iolcus, when they are living in Corinth. There the king offers his daughter in marriage to Jason and the hero, for reasons that vary from tragedy to tragedy, accepts the offer, abandoning his wife Medea to yet another exile and planning to separate her from their two children. As a result Medea, chooses to make him pay and sends his soon to be new wife a dress that burns her alive before killing the children she had with Jason and fleeing Corinth. In Seneca’s tragedy Jason becomes the mouthpiece of stoicism and is a positive character (which is why I much prefer Eurypides’ Medea, where he is a fool). He is forced into the new marriage by political reasons and acts as he does because the wise man endures stoically the hardships that life throws in his path, choosing based on intellect rather than passions, while his wife is the villain, choosing to destroy everything when life denies her what she wants rather than trying to make the best out of it. So there is this dichotomy of passions and rationality.This theme of passions versus reason is present in the Ai no Kusabi novels too, still there the role of Iason is similar yet completely different. Like Seneca’s Jason Iason is a creature of cold rationality at first, faced with a being of irrational passions. Both this Jason and Iason’s attempt at controlling that irrationality ultimately fails, yet they fail in completely different ways. Seneca’s Jason is not conflicted as Iason is. He knows his path, but doesn’t allow himself to suffer too much because of its cruelty, while Iason’s development is exactly about starting to feel something. His path is the exact opposite of the stoic hero’s one, he must learn how to feel, how to let go of the odd, twisted, form of stoicism that his nature and environment imposes upon him. Both Seneca’s Jason and Iason must overcome their nature, but in opposite directions. Jason’s act of healing is to overcome passions and his suffering, while Iason’s act of healing is about accepting, acknowledging that he has a human side able to suffer.

This ties back into the elephant in the room that constitutes the second interesting observation.

Jason’s myth is heavily dpendant on Medea. Is there a Medea in Ank? and, if there is one, who is our dystopian Medea? The most immediate answer would be to say that Medea is Riki. After all both are strangers in a strange place, both are despised for what they are, considered barbarian, savages, both are ruthless and cruel, both are determined, both follow their feelings far more than any logic, both bring forth the demise of Jason/Iason. Still I think that is a false parallelism. Riki is not Medea. Medea is powerful, divine, far more ruthless than Riki ever was, her power is even superior to Jason’s and while she and Riki might fill somehow similar narrative roles, their characters are completely different. Medea is far more divine than Jason, Riki is incredibly human in his virtues and flaws. Riki is not stupid, not by a long shot, still his impulsiveness and ignorance end up thwarting his plans, even the best laid ones, while Medea’s might and knowledge is so great that even her suicidal plan ends with her leaving in triumph on the sun’s chariot. Her very name derives from μῆδος, that means “cunning”. Riki is smart, but he has no chance of being cunning, not faced with a “monster of cunning” like Iason.My pet theory is that Iason is both Jason and Medea. Let’s analyse the possibility: Jason, in his interpretation as the “civilised hero”, the stoic, the “guide”, is Iason’s at the beginning, the dominant side of his personality, what he was moulded into being. All of his actions are carefully planned, he is more than able to use and then throw people away to fit a “greater good”, his master plan. Jason can be, in some interpretations of the myth, seen as some kind of fool manipulated by greater forces and, in some ways Iason is too and, at the beginning, is actually clueless about it, since he is so “indoctrinated” by the system as he can be. To the point that he cannot see how the system could harm him too, since he never felt any desire to go against it in a significant way. Even as he does, to keep Katze alive, he is still operating inside of a strict amoian logic. Keeping Katze alive is a means to an end. Curiosity indeed plays a part, but Iason’s ultimate goal is to benefit his own, and thus Jupiter’s power.

Now let’s analyse Jason’s evil act, the one that looses him Hera’s favour. That act is abandoning Medea, breaking his family to save himself and his legacy in the “civilised” world. This is the complete opposite of what Iason does in the end of AnK. Iason there chooses his obsession for Riki over his own good, over what is socially acceptable. This way Iason makes Medea’s choice rather than Iason’s. To save Jason, to have him succeed, Medea betrays her family and country, so does Iason.Not just that, but Iason’s obsessive, possessive, twisted, brand of love for Riki very closely resembles what Medea feels for Jason. To have him she is willing to use all of her powers, to defy the most sacred laws and, when he wants to abandon her she is willing to destroy him, even if it hurts her in the deepest most intimate way (the killing of her own children). Still there we see a fundamental difference. By the end of book 6, after the one and only time Iason is forced to show Riki at a Bacchanalia, Iason has a very similar, horribly immature, reaction. He takes his frustration with the situation out on Riki, hurting him in quite an awful way. The abusive mechanism is the same “since I have sacrificed so much for you, if I cannot have you as I want, I’d rather destroy you”. Still Iason, unlike Medea, does not go through with it. Which doesn’t make his actions any less horrible, mind you, but shows a fundamental difference and highlights what, in my opinion, is Iason’s private “act of healing” that only comes as he dies: managing to make his Medea and his Jason coexist. Iason’s redemption is to accept his nature as part-human and act accordingly, granting the object of his twisted brand of “love” a choice, to recognise that a feeling, when not mutual, cannot be enforced and, through this, reconcile his rational and his instinctive side. And, this way, reconciling his rational and his irrational sides.

Now, as promised at the beginning, I will explore a bit the “alchemical” symbolic interpretations of Jason.In Rome there is a famous landmark, the “Porta Alchemica”, (alchemical door), which references Jason in two of its incisions and in both cases the meaning given to him and his name was not the one of “healer”, but the one of “the discoverer”. This is aligned with the theories and interpretations of the myth that see the Argonauts voyage as a mythical recounting of the first commercial travels of Greek merchants towards unknown riches and knowledges. The golden fleece there is a symbol of redemption and knowledge rather than healing per se. Its gold is the alchemic gold, the philosopher’s stone able to turn “vile metals” into gold, heal every ailment, and grant eternal life. What I like about Ai no Kusabi is how that search is turned on its head. Iason starts the story by having a high-tech version of the philosopher’s stone/golden fleece. He is immortal, eternally young, has incredible power, he knows more than any other being, yet precisely because of that he is blind to everything he does not understand, he is prejudiced to think that everything “below” himself is unworthy. He frequently refers to Riki as a “gem in the rough”, but ultimately, his path leads him to the conclusion that the “rough” is exactly what makes Riki so appealing to him. He never ceases to want to dominate Riki, that is his nature, still he doesn’t want to “break him” anymore. Only by loosing his “golden fleece” Iason is able to recognise what he ultimately is and wants, and thanks to this realisation, redeem himself and gain one thing of true value.Iason, at the beginning, doesn’t truly care for anything because his own golden fleece blinds him. Both Riki and Iason loose the people they were before meeting each other and, through the books, search for a new identity, a rebirth (another theme that appears again and again in Jason’s and Medea’s tale). Pelias being tricked into thinking he can be rejuvenated, reborn, and then killed by Medea could be accosted to Kirie’s fate. A false rebirth that only means death. In fact Kirie’s name itself means “Lord”, like Pelias is the lord of Iolcus.

The most meaningful inscription, in the optic of the reconciliation of Jason’s and Medea’s figures, is the one where it was written “Passing by opening the door of the villa, Iason obtained the rich fleece of Medea”. In that context one could argue that Iason’s travel “through the door” symbolises a form of acceptance of Medea’s rules and values, and that true knowledge and redemption from human limitations can only be achieved when rationality and passion are both taken into account and given their own space in a human’s life. In that inscription the treasure, the fleece is Medea’s.

In conclusion: yes, I do think the meaning of Ιάσων is important to the plot of Ai no Kusabi, and I also think that there are several interesting parallelisms that could be made between the characters of the myth in some of its interpretations and Iason.Still I also think that the meaning of “healer”, should not be taken literally, but interpreted in the context to signify a sort of “spiritual healing”, a conciliation between opposite positions and pulls. As I said in previous posts I think that Elites, Blondies in particular, can be seen as “failed projects” since they are supposed to serve as a bridge between men and machine, yet they are taught to look down on mankind rather than try to understand the humanity in them and “embrace it”. This way they are made ultimately ineffective at presenting the human position before Jupiter and Iason’s only “healing” act comes at the end of the novels and is about accepting his “human” side and acting upon it not for evil but, once in his life, for good. Thus “healing” that flaw of his whole specie. Besides, in such an optic, death, rather than the eternal life granted by the fleece, becomes the one way to freedom from Amoi’s society, the great equaliser.

Are many of these speculations of mine pretty wild? Absolutely. After all the cultural context Yoshihara-sensei lives in is very different from the one I am speaking from, and there are issues of Japanese society explored in the books that I only tangentially know and which can be appreciated and spoken of far better by people who are part of, or know well, Japanese society.Still I think that Yoshihara-sensei did a kind of “syncretic effort”, to present a far-future culture that stemmed from many different roots (the Vila of slavic folklore are mentioned and subtly likened to the Elites, the reliefs on Midas’ gates are described as very similar to Indian reliefs, an angel is the symbol of the Guardians, one of Riki’s nicknames is Vajira and so on), thus I think that some of the observations I made might have indeed occurred to her while choosing the name for Iason.

Thank you so much for the question again, and sorry for this humongous rant. I hope it could interest you, Anon!

#ai no kusabi #Iason mink #riki the dark #meta #sorry for the rant #I LOVED this question so much!#Anonymous #sorry for the long and pointless game of parallelisms #I like it so much! XD #cw: mention of abuse

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alewyren · 7 years

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it’s 2 am and I need to rant at length about the romance in bravely default/bravely second

Okay, so, I like the Bravely series overall. I just really, really fucking hate every single one of its three main ships. In descending order of hostility:

Edea/Ringabel

This pairing hurts my soul. Edea is my all-time fave and I quite like Ringabel as well, yet somehow it’s managed to become my bar-none NOTP for the franchise. Which is ironic, since I actually ship Alternis/Edea pretty hard. But honestly, it’s precisely because I love Edea and her complicated relationship with Alternis so much that RinDea makes me want to go on a stabbing spree.

Let me explain.

I don’t inherently object to the idea of Edea and Ringabel being together. What I hate is how their relationship is written. On paper, their relationship is actually super interesting. What with Ringabel’s previous life as Alternis, having lost his own Edea, and loving her much more deeply than he lets on. The problems are twofold: this only covers half the pairing, ignoring Edea’s feelings for the two men altogether, and this aspect of their relationship is never capitalized on. Instead, 99% of their interactions are generic slap-slap-kiss bullshit, with Ringabel’s advances being shot down every single time. Except of course she totally secretly loves him. And to make matters worse, she’s 15. He’s 20. Yeah, totally not creepy at all. I have no idea what Squeenix was thinking here.

Like, you’d think Edea would have a lot of conflicted feelings over the whole Alternis revelation, but it never even gets addressed! Because her feelings don’t matter, apparently? Like, why pair Edea with another incarnation of Alternis and not acknowledge her strained relationship with her Alternis?! Or maybe have Ringabel actually respect Edea’s feelings to lay off the creepy flirting if he really loves her so much? Seriously, how did Alternis’s personality do a complete 180 like that anyway? That still bothers me. You could say you like the relationship for the potential but IMO the damage is already irreparable. The most I can hope for is that they can never be together for plot reasons and Edea ultimately ends up working things out with her Alternis and they marry down the line--something that also desperately needs to happen with Ringabel since he still carries the emotional baggage associated with being Alternis but nope, never addressed, all you need for a stable and happy relationship is a perv who doesn’t know the meaning of no and an UNDERAGE girl who turns him down but secretly likes it because no always means yes, amiright? Fuck this pairing and fuck Squeenix for writing them like this.

And yeah the age difference gripe applies to Alternis as well but he’s much less aggressive when coming onto her, and when he is, it’s treated as a character flaw. Besides, I only see the two of them getting together way in the future after they’ve both matured. Also, can I just point out that Edea’s bravely second outfit, apparently meant to signify her lingering feelings for Ringabel, looked awful? Blue is not remotely her color, and being lovelorn for Ringabel does not suit her at all. Why does she love him? What draws her to him? Clearly she doesn’t love him for being Alternis, though it’s not even clear if it’s in spite of that. It’s never even explained, it’s just assumed that she must love him because he loves her. it’s gross as fuck smh

And like the entire fandom ships it and doesn’t even stop to think about how gross their relationship really is and I WANT TO FUCKING KILL MYSELF

Oh, and another thing! Why was Edea’s ONLY personal damage, according to Yoko, just being tfw no bf? God forbid a woman have a character or struggles independent of her totally shoehorned feelings for a guy. Nothing about the stress of ruling Eternia, nothing about how she still clings to childhood despite her character development in the first game, literally just being lonely because no Ringabel. She’s my darling daughter and she deserves so much better than this utter and complete shit.

Yew/Magnolia

What grinds my gears about this pairing is that while it was indeed a totally forced romantic plot tumor that would have changed absolutely nothing about the narrative had it not been a thing, Yew’s character did not suffer from it at all while Magnolia’s was completely consumed. Yew was actually a really good character, why did Magnolia completely lack any substance whatsoever? MAXIMUM THENKING

For that matter, Altair and Vega could have been a lot more interesting, too, and it’s not like the parallels between them and Yew/Magnolia had any impact on the characters or narrative. It was just kind of a thing, y’know? It could have been interesting if it foreshadowed Yew and Magnolia becoming star-crossed lovers themselves, or even Yew tearing down the sky to save Magnolia. But no. Seriously, what was the point of this relationship? It added nothing to the narrative or either of their characters, and their interactions were just so forced and painful to watch.

Come to think of it, during my first playthrough of Bravely Second, though, I’d actually thought the narrator who turned out to be Deneb was Vega, and I still think that would have been a more interesting route to take with Vega. Actually give her some agency and presence in the narrative beyond being the damsel in distress and whatnot.

Tiz/Agnes

I’m less openly hostile towards this pairing so much as I am immensely bored by it and saddened by its wasted potential to be something interesting. There was actually very little buildup to them being any more than just friends, for starters. No, writers, just because a man and woman are single and interact does not mean the audience automatically assumes they want to bang, and neither should you. Tiz not really having any sort of personality doesn’t help matters, though. Agnes in general has kind of lowkey born sexy yesterday vibes that make me a bit uncomfortable, what with how naive she is about worldly matters and how sexed up she is in official art of her vestal garb. And with Tiz being a literal player insert it comes off a little fetishy, like she’s supposed to be your waifu rather than a substantial and believable relationship forming between two actual characters. Oh Tiz, why did you have to be such a flat character?

I actually think it would have been a lot more interesting if Yew/Magnolia had been scrapped altogether, and it was Tiz/Agnes that had the parallels drawn with Altair and Vega. Especially if they actually went somewhere narratively, like I mentioned earlier with the two of them becoming star-crossed lovers or Tiz tearing down the sky for Agnes like Altair did for Vega. Maybe even to the point of his love for her leading to catastrophe. Cliche? Maybe, but at least there would be some actual substance to their relationship rather than coming off like they’re just pairing them because they’re the hero and heroine and it’s the rule for them to get together. And since their relationship was established in the first game and we have some attachment to them as characters, as opposed to Yew and Magnolia, it’d wind up being a lot more emotionally engaging. Not to mention it’d add a lot more emotional weight to Altair and Vega’s story, too.

Shit, Altair was even possessing Tiz for a while, wasn’t he? This shit literally writes itself! What a wasted opportunity.

I dunno, my thoughts on these two are a lot more scattered. They just make me bored and depressed.

#musings #writing this out made me realize that the narrative of these games has more misogynist undertones than i'd realized jfc #get ur shit together squeenix

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sophcaro · 7 years

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Destiny | WMatsui - Chapter 24

As the car was finally arriving at destination after a short drive from the police station, detective Inoue Kaori looked out the window from the passenger seat to observe the vast expanse of water on her left. Despite the pleasant warm and sunny weather, there were very few people currently taking a stroll in this area. Another time, the view would have caught her off guard, considering it was always well frequented, even more during the week-end. However, on this Saturday morning, a brutal crime had managed to scare off the inhabitants of Tokyo.

“It’s so lively here during the week-end,” A masculine voice prompted Kaori to tilt her head right, her eyes falling on the young driver with shoulder-length, black hair. Noting his fingers gripping tightly the steering wheel, she knew her partner was feeling as similarly disturbed by this unexpected crime. “Why would anyone commit a crime in such a place?”

“I have no idea, Daisuke-san,” Kaori admitted her helplessness, diverting her attention to the group of policemen gathered around the corpse near the water. “I actually also come here often on the week-end. I can’t believe such a beautiful place turned into a crime scene.”

Kaori tied her long, black straight hair in a neat ponytail before stepping out of the car, both detectives walking towards the group of officers standing by the river bank. On her way, Kaori noted a crowd of people observing the scene from afar, and pointing their phones at the group of officers in the obvious intent of taking a good, memorable picture. Well, their curiosity was legitimate, Kaori figured. After all, it wasn’t every day you saw a dead body at Shinobazuno pond.

“Detective Nishimura, detective Inoue,” One of the policemen stepped forward, and bowed in respect at their approach. “The body was found by a pedestrian. We haven’t moved or touched anything.”

Kaori looked down to the body, having a bad feeling about this when she noted the white plastic bag covering the victim’s head. At first, she believed the killer may have tried to dispose of the body by throwing him into the lake, but she knew her theory was incorrect when the victim – that she deduced had to be a young male in his late twenties - was completely dry from head to toe.

“He wasn’t killed here,” Kaori stated with assurance after studying carefully his clothes. Not only was the victim barefoot, he was wearing a white tee-shirt along with a pair of blue pajama shorts. “I think he was attacked in his sleep, then brought here by the killer.”

“Why would the killer bother to carry his body all the way here?” Detective Nishimura uttered in perplexity. “Why place it here, out in the open?”

“Maybe he wanted us to find the victim,” Kaori offered. “Everyone knows this place is crowded, especially on the week-end. He knew we would find the body quickly and very easily.”

“So this could have been… staged?” Detective Nishimura glanced down at the plastic bag closed around the victim’s neck with a string. “What do you think. Death by suffocation?”

Kaori kneeled by the victim’s side and observed attentively the region around the victim’s neck. When she had first seen the body, she had drawn the exact same conclusions as her partner, but after careful observation, she distinguished a neat cut a few millimeters wide and ten centimeters long just below the plastic bag.

“Can you see this?” she pointed at the blunt cut. “The killer slit his throat with great precision. He knew exactly what he was doing.”

Kaori looked up to the victim’s face again. Unfortunately, it was impossible to distinguish his features properly, considering it was completely covered in cuts and bruises. Were those marks provoked post-mortem? It was too early to say yet but one thing was for sure: the victim was in pretty bad shape. Considering there were no papers on him, Kaori hoped his DNA would give them some information about the victim’s identity.

Just as Kaori was about to stand up, her attention was suddenly caught by a brown mark on the inside of his left wrist. A small birthmark that resembled slightly the letter O, and strangely looked familiar. Too familiar.

“Heita-kun,” A sharp gasp escaped Kaori’s lips in horror.

“You know him?!” The male detective exclaimed in surprise. “His face is brutally marked. You could mistake him with someone else.”

“No, it’s him,” Kaori’s voice trembled. “His name is Suzuki Heita. I could recognize this particular birthmark everywhere.”

Vaguely, Kaori registered in the background her partner inquiring about the nature of her relationship with the victim but she was frozen in place, incapable of adding another single word. Right in front of her eyes, was laying someone she knew very well. Someone she had deeply cared about at one point of her life.

Suzuki Heita.

Heita wasn’t just her childhood friend; they had also both entered the police academy at the age of eighteen in the hope of fulfilling their long-time dream of becoming detectives. Unfortunately, things hadn’t gone as expected for Heita as, only four months after enrolling, a severe knee injury had forced him to leave the academy, incapable of continuing the demanding physical training.

This major setback had affected him terribly, and caused irreparable damage on his emotional and mental health. Their budding romantic relationship didn’t survive. Little by little, his depression drew them apart, and Kaori never heard about him ever again during all those years.

Until today.

Kaori tore her eyes away from the gruesome sight, not having the force nor the will to resist when her partner seized her gently by the waist to help her get up on her feet. The female detective had already seen a few dead bodies in her short career, but never had she been confronted with the death of someone she had cared so much about. When her partner kindly suggested to walk back to the car she didn’t protest, although not before taking one last peek at the large inscription on the white tee-shirt. Two red capital letters, that had been handwritten by the killer.

I K

Two letters that awfully sounded like her own initials.

Rena shivered in displeasure as the cold wind hit her face. She had just finished shooting an important scene of her new drama, the crucial moment when her character – a rising, female detective – discovered in complete shock the dead body of a past lover in the crowded area of Shinobazuno pond. The first body of a long series of crimes in Tokyo, the killer following each and single time the same modus operandi, all victims being strangely connected to the female detective’s own past...

The actress still had another scene to shoot at Shinobazuno pond before moving to the next shooting location – this time, an indoor scene at the police station - but was for now waiting patiently for the staff to get their equipment prepared. In the drama, the weather was supposed to be sunny and warm, but the reality was different. Yes, the sun was currently shining over her head, yet the weather was awfully windy and admittedly a little chilly this Friday morning of early June.

Oh no, it was not the moment to get sick. Without further ado, Rena seized the large, black coat resting behind her on the folding chair, and covered her shoulders with it.

“Are you alright, Rena-san?” A male, gentle voice suddenly sounded on her left, and inquired in concern.

Rena tilted her head towards the other actor sitting on the folding chair by her side, and smiled at him with gratitude. “I’m fine. Thank you, Yosuke-san.”

“I think I’m going to follow your example,” the twenty-seven years old actor wrapped himself up in his down, warm jacket. “At least, we’re lucky it hasn’t rained yet. The weather forecast for today didn’t sound so promising.”

Rena observed quietly her co-star who was trying to brush his hair back in place, a little amused when all these attempts proved much fruitless as the wind kept stubbornly on blowing his fringe across his eyes. “Maybe you should ask the hairdresser to help you with this.”

Yosuke laughed softly, finally conceding defeat when his hair refused to obey to his command and the wind didn’t prove to be his greatest ally. “I think it’s best. Maybe I shouldn’t have let my hair grow so much either.”

Both actors shared a knowing smile, Rena realizing once again how unbelievably fortunate she had been to be paired with him out of all possible choices of actors. The last time she had crossed path with Masada Yosuke was almost a year ago, when they both had worked on the critically acclaimed historical drama Destiny.

At first, she had been a little startled when her agent had informed her she would be sharing the screen alongside the actor again. There were so many young talented actors in Japan. What were the odds they would both have the chance to act together again, and moreover be offered the leading roles of this drama?

It had now been two weeks since the shooting had started in Tokyo, and more than a few times, she was reminded of why she had already enjoyed so much working with him on Destiny. Not only was he remarkably professional – always arriving in advance for his scenes and never forgetting his lines once the cameras were rolling – he was profoundly gifted and always succeeded in making each scene flow naturally. At every given opportunity, the staff and crew adored to praise their chemistry on screen. It didn’t surprise her in the least; she had already heard such compliments during the shooting of Destiny.

When the director sometimes invited them to review on the monitor a scene they had just finished shooting, she was forced to admit they weren’t lying. If there was one personality trait she and Yosuke shared in common, it was their hardworking nature. Constantly, they thrived to excel and were determined to miss nothing pass. They agreed on a great many things and, if something was not completely to their liking during a scene, they never hesitated to share with one another their concerns, and to discuss on the best way to improve it.

Supported and surrounded by an undoubtedly qualified staff and crew, Rena trusted her co-star completely, and wasn’t worried one instant about the good execution of this shooting.

“Today is Friday,” Yosuke’s voice broke up the comfortable silence and startled the actress from her thoughts. “I hope you’ll come to have dinner with us tonight?”

Rena shifted in her seat and avoided his expectant gaze in unease. Last Friday too, she had also been confronted with the same question from the actor, an offer that she had politely declined. It was the cast and crew’s little ritual: each Friday evening, they would go out to a restaurant to loosen up after a long week of work. During the shooting of Destiny, she had willingly agreed to follow it, enjoying those pleasant evenings spent in the company of her two other co-stars, Masada Yosuke and Kaneko Sayuri.

So why was she so reluctant to renew with the tradition this time? Maybe because she wasn’t in the best state of mind lately for any social gathering. Enjoyment and high spirits were prominent during those times, and she refused to force herself to pretend or fake emotions when her mind was simply not at it. And, of course, it was out of the question to let her dark, melancholic mood transpire in the presence of others. Even less in front of staff members and co-workers.

“Rena-san…” Her interlocutor murmured hesitantly. “Are you alright? I know it’s been almost a year since the last time we met but since the beginning of this shooting, I can’t shake the feeling that something has changed.”

“Changed?” Rena glanced back at him in puzzlement. “What do you mean? In my acting?”

“No, not your acting,” Yosuke reassured her immediately. “I just sometimes have the impression that something is on your mind; especially when I watch you leaving set at the end of the day. I used to think it was work-related, but…”

Yosuke suddenly paused, and looked away in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I asked that. It’s none of my business; please forget what I just said.”

Taken aback by her interlocutor’s perspicacity, Rena didn’t know what to reply for a little while. Yosuke was entirely right. During the day, she focused all her attention on her work, but the familiar face of a girl she still deeply loved never failed to submerge her mind as soon as the cameras were off. Could her perfect mask have possibly slipped a few times without her realizing it? Could others also have noticed what he had just described?

“It’s true. Many things have changed in my life since the last time we met,” Rena confessed. Her co-star was a kind and thoughtful person, and she was touched by his sincere concern for her. Nevertheless, there were certain things she wasn’t ready to share about herself. It wasn’t a problem of trust; but of boundaries she wasn’t willing to cross. “That’s why I’m afraid I wouldn’t be very good company tonight.”

“I understand,” Yosuke nodded, and Rena didn’t fail to detect the small, perceptible disappointment in his voice. “If you ever change your mind, you know where to find us. Same restaurant as last week.”

“Thank you,” A faint smile moved to Rena’s lips, grateful when he didn’t insist. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll think about it.”

When the shooting ended a little after 6 PM and the minivan left Rena in front of her hotel, she soon remembered Yosuke’s suggestion. These last two weeks, she had on a few occasions settled down alone at a table of the hotel restaurant, but had mostly spent her dinners in her comfortable hotel room, watching television or listening to music on her iPhone. Maybe she could afford to make a small change tonight, Rena figured as she entered the elevator leading upstairs to her room. Maybe the distraction would do her some good.

Letting out a despondent sigh, she leaned her back heavily against the elevator panel. Press conferences, interviews: as part of her job, she had had to attend a few of those lately to promote her new drama. However, she had carefully made sure to stay away from non-mandatory events. This evening, as the prospect of joining the cast and crew at the restaurant definitely didn’t sound appealing at all, she realized she wasn’t mentally ready yet to participate in those kinds of social gatherings.

Rena felt slightly guilty for letting her co-star down - especially when he looked so hopeful after telling him she would sincerely consider it – but she was going to have to pass for now.

Much as she was not disposed to spend the evening in the presence of co-workers, she nevertheless decided on the next day to make a small infringement to her daily routine and have dinner outside of the hotel. Not wishing to have to walk too far, she opted for a small place that didn’t look like much from the outside, less than ten minutes away from the hotel. She wasn’t looking for any type of food in particular; she just wanted to spend a peaceful, undisturbed evening in a quiet and cozy restaurant.

The food was tasty and the staff discrete, yet her mind was anything but at rest. Now and then, her fingers would play absent-mindedly with her necklace, her thoughts drifting far too frequently towards a certain beloved twenty years old ace. Before leaving Nagoya, Airi had mentioned the change of scenery may enable her to take her mind off things, and she had deeply hoped her best friend would be right.

Ultimately, it had only been wishful thinking.

Not only was she consumed with guilt - incapable of forgetting or even less forgiving herself for what she had said and done that fateful day of early April - she had never felt so empty inside. These last two years, she had relished Jurina’s constant presence in her life and by her side. Her voice. Her smile. Her touch. She was missing her so badly. Where was she? What was she doing? Was she alright? Many questions piled up in her head; questions that remained desperately unanswered.

Rena had been sitting at the table for almost an hour – her meal already finished - when she noticed the many emptied Sapporo beers lining in front of her. It definitely wasn’t the first time she consumed alcohol, but she always made sure to drink in moderation. Tonight, she knew she had gotten carried away when she felt even more miserable than when she first entered the restaurant. Getting drunk was never her objective in the first place; she had just naively hoped the beverage would enable her to forget about her sorrow for at least one evening.

It wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

The problem was, it had done the exact opposite.

Not wishing to let the male waiter witness her current fragile emotional state, she wiped away discretely a solitary tear sliding down her cheek when he had his back turned. Staring in despair at the content of her half empty glass, pain began gnawing at her chest. Was she forever doomed to live with a heavy weight on her conscience? Would she ever be able to fill that void within her again?

“Rena-san?”

Rena came back to her senses and looked up when she caught the sound of a voice addressing her. When she noticed a familiar silhouette standing a few feet away, her eyes widened in stupefaction. “Y-Yosuke-san? What are you doing here?”

“What a surprise to see you here,” Yosuke approached her table. “I sometimes come here to take some takeaway, they make the best takoyaki.”

Rena noted the plastic bag with the restaurant’s label in his right hand, the actor’s smile vanishing when his eyes fell on the content of her table, more specifically on the empty bottles of beers. She tensed and avoided his gaze, now feeling awfully embarrassed at the terrible sight she was offering. Her first instinct was to try and justify herself and assure him it definitely wasn’t what he was thinking. But how could she manage to make herself convincing enough when, not only wasn’t she exactly feeling at her best right now, the evidence was laying just in front of his eyes?

Rena knew she would never manage to erase what he had just seen; it was already too late for that. However, she could still attempt to distract him from the view and try to make the situation slightly less awkward for both of them. Composing herself a little, she looked up to him with a tentative smile. “It was my first time coming here. I was about to leave… soon.”

“You were?” Yosuke diverted his attention from the remnants of her meal to glance back at her in anticipation. “Then, why don’t we walk back to the hotel together?”

“I…” Rena trailed off. Somehow, she had hoped her words would satisfy the actor’s curiosity, putting an end to their unpredictable meeting and prompting him to leave. And now, he was offering to accompany her back to the hotel? Wouldn’t he, on the contrary, want to turn on his heels and pretend he hadn’t seen anything?

“Please,” Rena was caught off guard when Yosuke placed a warm hand upon her shoulder. “Let me walk you back to the hotel.”

Rena was startled by the tenderness and concern in his eyes. The true reason behind his proposal suddenly appeared a little clearer, and she found herself torn between two conflicted emotions. A part of her was still feeling ashamed to have been caught in such a compromising situation in front of him, yet another was moved by the actor’s benevolent care and appreciative of his non-judgmental attitude.

Slowly raising herself from the chair, she realized his presence was far from unwelcomed after all when her feet proved to be a little unsteady.

What could possibly have pushed Matsui Rena, one of the most collected people he had ever met in his life, to drink so much tonight?

Those worried thoughts crossed Yosuke’s head more than once when they both left the restaurant and moved towards the direction of their hotel. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to have lost all her senses yet, as she proved to be coherent enough when they exchanged a few words on the way back. Nevertheless, he kept a cautious eye on her, worried by her sometimes slightly unbalanced steps.

When, a little while later, they arrived in front of her hotel room, he was more than reluctant to leave her alone. The actress may have thanked him politely for walking her back to her room, the way she was having difficulty sliding her keycard inside the lock didn’t go unnoticed. Yosuke reached for her hand, and wrapped his fingers gently around hers. “Let me do it.”

The actress didn’t oppose any resistance, letting him take the keycard from her hand to unlock the door. “I’m sorry,” A faint whisper left her lips. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Yosuke said softly. “Are you going to be alright?”

Receiving a small nod in reply, he stepped aside to let her move inside the room. Just as the door was closing behind him progressively, it suddenly paused halfway through, Rena’s bothered expression appearing through the partially opened door. “No, I’m not fine…”

Yosuke gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll stay with you for a little while.”

Yosuke tried not to look around the room when he followed her inside, not feeling entirely comfortable with the idea of invading her privacy. As soon as she was seated on the corner of the bed upon his demand, he went for the mini-bar in search of something adequate for her to drink. The unease crossing her features when he presented her a small bottle of orange juice he had fetched, taught him she definitely didn’t enjoy showing such a vulnerable side in front of him.

No, Matsui Rena wasn’t as flawless as the image she always tried to project in public, whether in front of the staff and crew or in magazines. More than anything, he wanted to reassure her that she had nothing to fear from him: her secret was perfectly safe. After all, she was a human being like anyone else: she could afford to make small mistakes. His respect for her would not diminish after today because of what he had accidently witnessed.

And, right now, his only objective was to be present for her during that difficult moment she was going through.

“Why don’t we watch something on the television?” Yosuke offered. Somehow, he didn’t want to take the risk of her falling asleep yet when she remained quite intoxicated.

“Alright,” Rena agreed. “You can choose the program.”

Yosuke seized the remote control, caught off guard when he suddenly felt trembling fingers encircling his hand. “Thank you, Yosuke-san.”

Yosuke glanced back at her, startled when he noticed her watery eyes. Wishing to comfort her a little, he caressed her hair hesitantly but tenderly. “You don’t have to thank me. You’ll be fine. Go and lay down.”

Rena nodded and went to rest her back against the headboard while he moved a chair near the bed, close enough to keep an eye on her in case she needed assistance. When, more than an hour later, the ending titles appeared on the screen, he glanced back at her in curiosity when he didn’t detect any movement on the bed. Her closed eyelids informed him that she had unexpectedly fallen asleep, and the sound of her calm and steady breathing reassured him instantly.

His presence wasn’t required any longer.

Standing up from his chair, he pulled the blanket over her still fully-clothed form, careful to be gentle enough not to wake her up in the process. After that, he observed her for a few more seconds, startled when he suddenly distinguished a tear rolling down her cheek. Saddened by the unexpected sight, he momentarily wondered what she could currently be thinking about. But would he ever discover the origin of her sorrow? The actress was and had always been awfully secretive.

Before switching the light off and leaving the room, he paused on the doorstep and glanced in her direction one last time, hoping for her torment not to last. Tears simply didn’t suit such a beautiful and kind person as Matsui Rena.

#destiny #wmatsui #matsui jurina #matsui rena #wmatsui fanfic #SKE48 #AKB48 #Partners sequel #Heartbeat trilogy #chapter 24

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nerdyskeleton · 7 years

Note

Consider.... blackmadhi angst esp 5 14 & 15 :3c ALSO I WOKE UP AT 3AM LAST NIGHT AND ALL I COULD THINK OF WAS SIMON N NAHYUTA WATCHING TOY STORY 3 AND NAHYUTA CRYING AND SIMONS JUST LIKE ???¿¿¿?¿?¿¿???? HCHCHCHDCJDVS

I REFUSE to consider those it’s too sad

JK LET’S DO THIIIIIIIIS

5. “How funny. You thought I cared.”

The words taste foul. “How funny. You thought I cared.” There is nothing funny about this.Simon hates himself just that much more. But what he hates the most is the fact that Nahyuta’s expression doesn’t change after he says it. Nahyuta is staring at him, unblinking and unmoving. He finally backs off so that the tension leaves his body.

“Thank you for saying what we were both thinking,” Nahyuta finally murmurs. “I struggled to find the proper words to tell you that.” He sounds like when they first met during that theatrical turnabout.

One mighty shiver prickles like a hundred ants crawling on Simon’s skin. He doesn’t mean it, not for a moment - he hadn’t felt this way with someone in so long. Nahyuta seems to be telling the truth. though. Oh God. What is going on?

The monk moves away further. “This is the perfect opportunity, then, to air out my grievances. If we are admitting everything, I will tell you now I have never had any intention of letting this carry on as it has. But you were clingy and pitiful, and who was I to reject you, just as the last one did?”

Simon flinches. He was only rejected because the last one had been dead for years.

“I personally feel,” Nahyuta carries on, voice growing harder and steelier, “you have always been a rather fascinating experiment of mine. I had to know how far you, Simon Blackquill the Twisted Samurai, could be seduced, especially if you were so easy that first night. You’re so touch starved, Simon, even now you’re reaching out to me.”

He’s right - Simon’s hand was poised to cup at Nahyuta’s cheek, like he often did. Nahyuta’s gentle hand pushes away Simon’s, and he wonders if this will be the last time they touch.

But no, Nahyuta reaches to kiss him, soft yet devoid of any love or adoration he once poured into him. It is both the best and worst kiss of Simon Blackquill’s life. Nahyuta leaves the office, and Simon knows it’s over.

more angst under the cut!!!!

14. “You’re so determined to protect yourself and your feelings, but what about me?”

“You obviously only care about yourself! ”

The rosary snaps in a dazzling, slow motion flurry as it always does. The beads clatter to the floor, rolling to knock into Simon’s boots. He stands just a few feet away from Nahyuta, looking annoyed and almost desperate. Nahyuta wants to smack that look off of his face.

Simon takes a deep breath and tries again, “I did not mean…exactly that.”

Nahyuta tenses violently. “And what were you trying to say?”

“Only that…you struggle with-”

“I will stop you there, Simon,” he says as he takes his earrings out. He throws them across the room. It feels so good. “You will either apologize or this conversation will end.”

The man squares his big broad shoulders. “Pardon me?”

“You heard what I said. I would give you the option of obeying, but there is none.” He peels off his jacket, growing warm with wrath. “Who are you to speak to me like that?”

Without warning, Simon shouts, “You’re so determined to protect yourself and your feelings, but what about me?”

“What about you?” Nahyuta shoots back, just as loud. “Does being by my side for less than half a year give you some higher status?”

“Have you ever been in a relationship?” He’s looking at Nahyuta like he’s a moron, and Ga’ran used to give him the same look. He sees the same look in Rayfa’s face, and he doesn’t know how to tell her that.

“Of course I have.”

“You are too used to being worshiped it seems, Sad Monk. You cannot seriously ask ‘what about you,’ as if my…feelings do not matter.”

Nahyuta wants to salvage whatever is left of their strange relationship, so he refrains from saying that they don’t.

“You merely do not understand what I have been through, Simon. My despicable aunt has-”

“Ga’ran has been gone for months. You are barricading yourself into a fortress she vacated for the ability to say and do as you please. She gave you unimaginable power, and you want it back.”

“How dare you?”

“If you would perhaps like to work on both your shoddy communication and surprisingly terrible personality from when we next see each other, be my guest.” He turns his head, looking smug and awful. “Otherwise, we will not see each other again.”

15. “You betrayed me!”

(bless

@mesa-verde

for the idea for this holy shit)

Simon throws Nahyuta’s office door open. The monk braces himself for what is to come. He can tell that Simon is about ready to hurt someone.

Nahyuta is vaguely afraid. “I had to tell her.”

“And forfeit immediately all trust I had in you?” he growls.

“I cannot keep a secret like that. He tortured you, Simon. Athena had to know at some point. She would find out eventually.”

“As if the pity I see in your face wasn’t enough to have to stomach! And now every time Athena looks at me, what else can she think about?” he shouts, finally snapping. “Who else would you like to inform? Who else would like to know about the Phantom’s sadistic shock collar?” He slams the door shut, finally stepping into the room. Nahyuta tries to back away subtly.

“I have the collar. Did you know that? Would you like to see how it works on me, Nahyuta?”

“Do not suggest such a thing.”

“I merely ask as you are so set on harming me further!” Simon’s voice has risen by the time he reaches the end of his sentence. Shutting the door would do nothing for them in the end, as the whole prosecutor’s office would end up hearing this monster of a fight.

“I never meant to hurt you,” Nahyuta finally says as calmly as he can. “Athena is your best friend, and you tell each other everything, so-”

“You cannot possibly try to explain away your actions, Sad Monk. The damage is irreparable. You have broken your promise to remain silent, and I will not stand by as you try to gain it back with your Regent Voice.” He turns to leave.

“What did Athena say to you?”

Simon does not answer and pulls on the door handle.

“Blackquill!” Nahyuta barks, standing and throwing his pen to the desk. “Answer me.”

“I owe you nothing. I never have, and thanks to your thoughtless actions, I never will.”

okay so uh……glad I got that out of my system……I feel so sad now in the computer lab at school……..

SO THEY’RE WATCHING TOY STORY 3 RIGHT?? literally though Nahyuta is me I honestly cry at the mention of that movie. Maybe Athena was talking about her favorite kid movies (the first one would have been ancient by the time she was a child but whatever) and Nahyuta wants to know what everyone’s talking about, since he most of the time doesn’t? So they marathon all three, and it’s very late, and Nahyuta is still on a high from how great Toy Story 2 is, he was NOT EXPECTING to be so destroyed by the third one???

And you’re right Simon is so confused like “wait I knew Athena sobbed at this part but you as well????” He does his best to comfort him, but like when a grown ass king regent is sobbing about having giving away all of his childhood toys it’s pretty hard to find words of comfort. Especially for emotionally stunted Simon over here.

Hey thanks for sending these in though!! I hope you liked them!!! It hurt me a lot tbh!!!!

#asks #writing #blackmadhi #simon blackquill #nahyuta sahdmadhi #holy shit this tired me out and I feel really bad now #ace attorney #I hope y'all liked it I did this instead of studying for my test

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littlefranklino-blog · 7 years

Text

My Story.

It’s largely assumed and taken as a given that, when anyone goes through any form of trauma, you’re ‘allowed’ a few months, maybe a year, of being a wreck. Emotionally, psychologically, even physically. You get a year’s free pass before the empathy and even the sympathy wears off, and you need to start to ‘help yourself’ or just get over it.

It’s not that people don’t care, it’s more that they either don’t fully understand the form of pain you’re in, or that they have their own lives and their own traumas that make it hard to be a constant support system. And it’s okay, because everyone has struggles and everyone goes through some form of inexplicably painful event at some point in their lives. So we don’t talk about it, and we try to carry on.

It’s because of my long and continuing journey to being me again that I feel the need to share my story and experience. So please bear with me, because this is hard.

I was 14 when I met him. I lost my virginity while partially unconscious in his bed at his 15th birthday party. At the time, I was so anxious to get my first time out of the way that I didn’t even think about what had really happened until a long time after. My friends were all really jealous that I had done it before them, and I was such a particularly insecure girl that I found a form of misguided pride in what I had “achieved”. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I looked back on that night and realised what had happened to me, and the events that took place for almost 4 years afterwards, that I have been able to truly come to terms with it.

After I lost my virginity to him, we didn’t really talk or see each other until one night, several months later, when he asked if I wanted to meet up. I was 15, and had engaged in sexual intercourse with someone else since losing my virginity, and would now be what is considered ‘sexually active’. We met up that night and he was charming and sweet and kind and funny, and I genuinely felt like he was perfect.

It’s worth mentioning that from the age of about 9 or 10, I was a deeply depressed and emotionally unstable person. I referred to myself as broken even as a child, and can remember crying myself to sleep every night for what felt like years. I was lonely and depressed and desperately trying to fill this emptiness that I had inside me. And then I met him, and I felt like everything would be okay.

We were in love. Everything was great. We were children, yes, but when you’re 15 you don’t see yourself as a child. We were convinced that we were going to be together forever. And then it started to change.

It was small things at first. When we went to a party I wasn’t allowed to drink any alcohol as I “couldn’t handle it”, and any time I was seen with any form of alcoholic drink, it descended into a very heated argument about my morals and my commitment to him. The fact that I wasn’t doing very well in school meant that I was a failure. I was told I didn’t try hard enough with my appearance. I was told that my family didn’t treat me well enough, so I distanced myself from them. I was told that he didn’t like my friends, so I distanced myself from them too, and instead only socialised with his friends. If we ever went on a date or a day out, I wasn’t trusted to choose the activity because I always got it wrong. He would tell me that he was taking me out, and then, after dictating what we did, would regularly make me pay. Often, he would leave midway through because I had done something to offend him or that he didn’t see as acceptable, and I would have to pay and then find a way home.

These small changes, when combined into one paragraph, make it painfully obvious that I was in an unhealthy and controlling relationship. When these things happen slowly over a period of time, at the same time, your self worth and self belief is also being destroyed by someone you’re in love with. You’re blinded. The worst part is that this was just the beginning. This is just a list of a few of the things he did that I can remember happening before it got a lot scarier and darker and even more lonely.

While the controlling continued, every single day was an attack on my personality and looks. I was nothing. I would be punished for behaving badly by being made to sleep on the floor, like a dog. I felt so worthless.

He cheated on me. I was told by a mutual friend and he denied it. I knew he was lying, but I was too scared to be without him, so I pretended I believed him. Later on in our relationship, he admitted it, gloated and told me it was because she was more attractive, better in bed and that I wasn’t having sex with him enough. He openly admitted that they regularly met up. It was my fault. And I genuinely felt like it was my fault. I wasn’t good enough for him. So I tried as hard as I could to be perfect, so he would stay with me.

We had been together for a year when he started to rape me. I think this is the part that I still struggle so much with. For most of my life, I believed that rape was when someone violently attacked a woman – usually down an alleyway. That is how it is depicted in school and on TV. Now, as an adult, and especially as a feminist, I feel almost ashamed that I didn’t know I was being raped, or try to stop it. I was old enough to fully comprehend rape and I was more than capable of knowing that it’s wrong to make someone have sex if they don’t want to, but I was also convinced that he was the only thing I had, and the only thing that could make me happy. I was under the illusion that I was lucky to have someone like that love me. I had gotten to the point where I didn’t know what I wanted or didn’t want, unless he told me first. So he told me I had to have sex with him. So I did.

Once this had started, so did the beatings. For the small things that would have originally ended with a heated argument and me apologising profusely for whatever I had done wrong, they now ended with a slap round the face or being physically held down and screamed at. On a few occasions I was punched in the face. The worst physical violence I endured was when he pushed me so hard that I fell over and split my head open on the corner of a radiator. The last thing I remember is seeing the blood, and then looking up to see him laughing. I woke up in hospital and apparently, according to the nurse, I had hurt my head by dancing on the bed and then falling off. I went along with it because he was sorry.

I was only physically forced into having sex with him once. I still can’t quite find it in myself to talk about that part, and it took a very long time for me to even be able to say it out loud. But it happened, he did it. And I got pregnant.

This was not part of the plan. He was destined for university and a career. This was something he couldn’t control. Well, this was something I thought he couldn’t control. Being someone that hadn’t ever really felt loved or worthy of love, I was suddenly faced with the prospect of becoming a mother. I was 16. I told him that I was pregnant, and I’m not really sure what I expected, but it was probably not what happened next. I was told to either have an abortion or I would be pushed down the stairs and dealt with. These weren’t the words of a scared 17 year old boy who didn’t know what to do; these were the words of someone who knew exactly how to handle a situation that had gone past being controlled. To this day I still hate myself for what I did. I know I did nothing wrong, and I aborted a child (that was the product of rape) out of fear for its safety, as well as mine. But I still can’t help hating myself, especially because now I am faced with the prospect that I may never have children.

Shortly after having the termination, I got a blood infection in one of my ovaries. It filled with cysts and caused irreparable damage that has left me with only one working ovary**. I’m not infertile, but I’m half as likely to ever hold my baby in my arms. I’m half as likely to ever be a mother. And it hurts so much because it is all because of what I did.

The rape and the violence started up again about a month later. I would spend about 4 or 5 nights a week at his house because of the strained relationship I had with my family. Even though I had my own home that I could go to and feel safe, I didn’t. I felt trapped between a home in which I felt unloved and lonely, and a home where I would be beaten and forced to have sex.

It wasn’t constant abuse. We would have some really good times. It was such a yo-yo type of relationship that I eventually didn’t know which version of him I was going to get or at what point he would turn, or if he would turn at all. It was exhausting.

One day, he suffered a family tragedy. He was broken. This big masculine terrifying person was suddenly so small and vulnerable. He needed me. I was there for him and I wanted to help make it better. I was there for months; everything he needed or wanted, I was there. One day he turned to me and said ‘you’re all I have left now. You are never allowed to leave me’. I don’t know why it happened at that moment, but suddenly the penny dropped. I wasn’t with him through choice. I wasn’t with him because I loved him. I was with him because he demanded it. I was with him because I was his possession.

So I left him. I broke up with him and I didn’t look back. He was vulnerable and had suffered a great loss and maybe it was insensitive to do so at that moment, but it’s what I did.

He was fine. He quickly got into another relationship with the girl he was cheating on me with. For months they mocked me over how weak and insignificant I was to them. Then, a year later she texted me apologising for what she had said and done, and sent me pictures of the black eye he gave her.

As I previously mentioned, it wasn’t until I was an adult and I looked back on my experience that I realised I wasn’t just heartbroken, I was BROKEN. Every part of my heart and soul had been picked apart and violated, and it took me a long time to comprehend the damage. And I’m still healing, but it’s okay. It’s okay to not be okay.

Years have passed since this happened to me. I’m now engaged with a good job and a great network of friends. People assume that its been so long since what happened that I must be fine now. My life looks perfect, so I must be fine.

I have PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder), which is triggered by sex or having my arm or leg movement restricted. I can barely bring myself to make love to my fiancé, because when I do, I have to fight off flashbacks of being raped. I have an anxiety disorder where I constantly worry about everything and have a feeling of dread with me all the time. I have OCD. I have a panic disorder and suffer from panic attacks regularly. I sometimes become convinced I’m being chased or followed. These are the lifelong consequences I carry from being abused. I’m a strong woman. I refuse to be mistreated by anyone again in my life, but I’m still recovering.

I don’t like the label ‘survivor of domestic abuse’. I don’t think that just because I didn’t die, that I survived at all. Parts of me that were once great are now gone. The person that I was no longer exists. The person I could have been will never exist. They say that you wouldn’t be who you are today without the things that happen to you, good or bad. The saddest part of that is that I agree, I just know I’m not the person I was supposed to be anymore.

I can’t stress enough how easy it is to find yourself in an abusive relationship, especially as a young girl who may not see the beauty and individual brilliance in themselves. It took me a long time to realise that I was in an abusive relationship, and then make the scary decision to walk away and say no, this isn’t right. I refuse to be damaged forever, and so should you. It shouldn’t be shameful or embarrassing to tell your story. I don’t know statistics, I don’t have facts and figures, but I know that too many women have and still will die because of domestic abuse.

If we stand together, tell our stories, face our fears and stop this issue from being so taboo, maybe we could save some lives. Maybe we can save someone from lifelong mental illness. Maybe we can save someone from aborting a child out of fear for their own life. Maybe we can save someone from rape. Maybe we can save someone from hating themselves. Maybe we can help rebuild someone that lives each day feeling broken.

#domesticviolencesurvivor #abuse #physicalabuse #rape #i am strong #i am here #hear my story #survivor #i will survive #abortion #fear #anxiety #ptsd recovery

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medicalmarijuana-news · 7 years

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High Horoscopes | Jan. 5, 2017

The HIGH TIMES weekly astrological forecast, complete with strain recommendations!

Ask Aelie anything! Find her on Facebook and Twitter.

Aries

In the last coughing sputters of 2016 we lost Carrie Fisher. She might have played Leia but IRL she was a true modern-day princess: a strong-minded, independent, take no bullshit, intelligent, witty, creative woman with a wicked sense of humor. What she dished out is exactly what the cosmos want you to serve in 2017: irreverent, self-effacing, take no prisoners, laugh it all off marvelousness. And some creative hairstyling, of course: don’t diss the side buns. Strain recommendation: Harlequin

Taurus

Before 2016 could slink away into the darkness from which it came, it took with it George Michael. His life’s struggle to reveal to the world his true self empowered his fans to do the same. He encouraged us all to be free and to have faith in ourselves. You can borrow his leather jacket and jukebox and pantheon of ’90s super models if you must, or you can just be loud and proud, but your task in 2017 is to speak up for all the parts of you that have hidden in the shadows out of fear. Sing out, baby. Strain recommendation: Cherry Bomb

Cancer

At the end of this past year we lost the magical Debbie Reynolds. Her career was as long as it was diverse: a triple threat and an absolute joy to watch. She will also be remembered for dying a day after her beloved daughter, Carrie Fisher. Their relationship was difficult and fraught with the highs and lows that accompany addiction, mental illness, hard-won reconciliations and the showbiz child/parent dynamic. They ran life’s gauntlet side by side, and together they moved on to the next great challenge. This commitment to making their family functional is what you will be embodying in 2017. Either by working out your own kinks or by being a wonderful example to those around you, family togetherness is your key word. Strain recommendation: Snoop’s Dream

Gemini

Losing Leonard Cohen in 2016 came as a real blow to lovers and poets across the globe, not to mention Buddhists, Montrealers, and musicians who all held him in a dear place in their hearts. 2017 is calling upon you to summon your inner romantic artist, to speak your truth and craft it until it is specifically yours and universally relatable. You will be unafraid of rejection and vulnerability, and when you connect to your spiritual power you will be able to harness the strength it gives you to bring a deep comfort to others. Put your heart out there for the world to embrace! Strain recommendation: Bio-Jesus

Leo

So much of 2016 was dominated by the US election that you wouldn’t be wrong to think of Trump as the face of the year. And what a year, and face, it is. Now, as the US braces itself for a 2017 under his rule, we are all left to wonder who will step forward as the face of 2017. Will it be an anti-Donald figure, a humanitarian Mandela type, a Bernie-esque politician, or a celebrity protester à la Mark Ruffalo? Or perhaps it will be a Trumpy ally, like a Putin or a Bannon? I mention this because the cosmos are calling for a political Leo this year. That part of you that speaks your mind and holds fast to your beliefs will be called upon. It is now that you must decide what kind of leader you want to be and whom you will support in the year to come. A great divide has formed, and no fence sitters are allowed anymore. Strain recommendation: Sour Jack

Virgo

So Brexit was a shocker. The world was left gobsmacked when the impossible happened. England voted to leave the EU and no one seemed more surprised than the British people themselves. A huge amount of exit voters said after voting day that they had changed their minds and wanted a revote. The ugly truth couldn’t be avoided, however; their beds had been made. As 2017 sweeps in, you must think of those Brits who recanted and what they learned the hard way; listen to no rhetoric, take no action without contemplation, and weigh all possibilities carefully. It’s a precarious time for you, and while risks need to be taken, you must tread softly and with purpose. Each step you take this year will leave an indelible footprint. Strain recommendation: Red Haze

Libra

There is a dog in my family that I find looks naked when he isn’t wearing his collar. He reminds me of you in 2017. When you allow yourself to be the real you it will come off as incredibly vulnerable, beautiful (even if slightly inappropriate) and uncommon. No matter how frighteningly nude you feel, you must continue in this vein, unabashedly in your birthday suit for the whole world to see. You are a bastion in these times of obfuscation and double speak: someone willing to be unadorned, raw and sometimes even a bit ugly. The cosmos applaud you and recommend a healthy diet of compassion for those who can’t handle your truth. Shine on! Strain recommendation: Silver Surfer

Scorpio

When you come across tough times in 2017, it will suck just as hard as it has in previous years, but there will be a slight difference… you will see the pain, even feel it, but it won’t damage you. You have lived through irreparably harmful events in your life, and have learnt from them. Finally, this year, your past pains have formed a shield that lives between the core of you and your experiences. This wonderful distance will help you on your path towards mindfulness, allowing you to keep that vulnerable part of you protected yet not blocked off. It’s an exciting time ahead for your personal growth. May you find joy in the self-awareness. Strain recommendation: Citrix

Sagittarius

Remember the Zika virus? Like the bird flu and H1N1 it came in like a horrifying nightmare and went out faster than a B-lister on the reality show circuit. In 2017, we’ll encounter a few more apocalyptic style news pieces that’ll scare the bejeezus out of everybody, but you’ve learnt by now how that little boy likes to cry wolf for the attention. You’ve got a grip on this year coming, you’re ready for it and heck, you might even have a little fun along the way. Take this newfound bravado and let it lead you to adventures that build your self-esteem. Stack it on top of each new accomplishment and by this time next year you’ll be flabbergasted by the advancements you’ve made. Make the space and it will be filled. Strain recommendation: Banana Diesel

Capricorn

Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee – sadly 2016 took down Ali. Cassius Clay, aka the great and beautiful boxer Muhammad, was an inspiring speaker, a strong activist and one hell of a fighter. When he lost his words and full control of his body due to Parkinson’s, it was particularly poignant as he had been naturally so graceful and eloquent. In honor of his spirit, I challenge you to activate your muscles and your words toward serving your causes: be they political, spiritual, personal or communal. Approach this year to come with a bit of his style and you should sail through like Ali’s The Rumble in the Jungle. Strain recommendation: Galactic Jack

Aquarius

When people talk about their physical body as if it is separate from their mind, their spiritual self or their emotions, I hear them saying they need to learn how to ingrate their many compartments into one self, to take a holistic approach to their life. Lately you have been focusing so much on your physical doings you have left the rest of you in the dusty dry haze of a Sunday afternoon, eating rusks and watching old home videos. Your arid neural pathways, the desert that is your emotional center and the tumbleweed blowing through your spiritual realm are signs that you need to drink a big glass of rehydrating reincorporation. I suggest cleaning out your bits in a heavy rain, bathing in the light of the moon and crying some tears over nothing but spilt water until all the barriers have been lifted and the river flows freely again. Strain recommendation: Blue Boy

Pisces

Remember when Ryan Lochte lied to everyone about being held up at gunpoint in Brazil after the Olympics? What a strange moment in sports history that was. From all accounts, he and his team were caught being dumbasses at a Rio gas station and instead of ‘fessing up they turned it into an international incident by fabricating some ridiculous story. This is a great lesson for you in 2017. Sometimes Pisceans can stretch the truth a little, maybe decorate reality with their own brand of historical revision… but this year must bring an end to that silliness. You must get in the habit of talking straight before you get caught with your pants down. This year Pinocchio needs to go into retirement before he ends up toothpicks. Strain recommendation: Voodoo

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